


You cannot live as I have lived (and not end up like this)

by Puppet_in_the_Corner



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Chuck and Raleigh are idiots, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, M/M, Mako secretly wants to be Mononoke Hime, Platonic Cuddling, Were-Creatures, Werewolves, Will add more tags as I go, offhand mentions to what can be construed as mpreg, okay so i'm totally not gonna lie this is probably going to be super cheesy and very indulgent, so much cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puppet_in_the_Corner/pseuds/Puppet_in_the_Corner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that no one knows about werewolves and other things that go bump in the night, but the giant Lovecraftian monsters rising out of the sea seemed slightly more important at the time. The life and times of Raleigh Becket, born werewolf and erstwhile Jaeger pilot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remember me as a time of day

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I writing this? Inspired by some random kink meme prompts, but to be honest this doesn't strictly fill any of them so I'm posting it as a separate entity, partially because I feel like it gets a little weird in some places and I dunno who'll go for that. There's a pretty big emphasis on family ties here, so I hope everyone is cool with that. I'm pretty hesitant as a writer, but I really wanted to write this before the plot bunny hopped away.
> 
> Also wanted to expand upon some of the warnings up in the tags: Some offhand mentions of what could be construed as mpreg, Raleigh's wolf is not the same gender as he is, and may at times be referred as a female by those who don't know, but he otherwise identifies as male and doesn't kick up much of a fuss about it. Loads and loads of handwaving towards werewolf mythos (why is Raleigh an Artic Wolf while his siblings are Grey wolves? Shhhhh).
> 
>  
> 
> I wanted to make this fluffy (figuratively and literally) but some (a lot of) angst slipped in here and there during this first chapter, along with a lot more exposition than I counted on, and not as much dialogue as I'd hoped :(

 

He is born whining and snuffling, a tiny slip of a thing with barely any fur and eyes wide shut, and he whimpers when a warm tongue licks him off and nudges him softly with the wet tip of a nose. There's some time spent being cleaned off, and he cries through it, unsure of this new place ( _so cold, the warmth no longer surrounding him fully like from the before-place)_ and where they've ended up now.

 

Mother (not that he'll know this now, being just born, but _mommommommyyyy_ will echo through his head once he learns the words later on) nudges him again, and another whine leaves his tiny mouth. The she-wolf makes a huffing sound that could be construed as a laugh, and the wet nose is suddenly replaced with warm but furless limbs, picking him up and pulling him close to a warm bosom.

 

“Hello _.”_ She breathes, her warm breath falling on his head, and he noses closer to her chest for warmth. She laughs, a tired and exhausted but endlessly please sound, and the reverberations in her chest make him squall another little cry, but she's not worried.

 

 

 

Some time later, a small, hesitant face peers into the room, and a smile breaks on her face.

 

“Come here, Yancy.” At this invitation, Yancy carefully (at least, for a 3 year old) totters in, messy blond hair mussed up. He gets close, and suddenly becomes a barnacle at her side, peering at the new pup with unbridled curiosity. He's not sure what to make of this new small thing, smaller than he ever was, she thinks privately, but he's been so wildly excited for this prospective new sibling that he's not sure what to do now.

 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” He asks quietly, probably having been warned by his father to not raise his voice around the new pup (baby?); intriguing, she thinks, as he should be able to smell the difference. She peers at the pup, her own eyes softening when a small yawn escapes it. To her nose, the smell is just _new_ , _baby, pup, mine,_ without the telltale lingering traces of _male_ or _female_ set in yet. Usually, it's obvious at birth, but also not unheard for the parts to not match from human to wolf.

 

“It looks like we'll have to wait for this little one to take their first steps on human feet before we're sure of that.” She answers truthfully; it's impossible to tell from one form to another at this point, so she'll leave that for now.

 

“Kay.” Yancy cuddles into her side more, wanting to get a better view of his new sibling. “Whatcha gonna name 'em?” She's silent for a moment.

 

“I think Raleigh would be good.” She murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to her elder son's forehead, his giggle loud enough to make Raleigh squawk at the sound.

 

Raleigh is a good, unisex name, she thinks.

 

 

 

 

 

Yancy is a permanent fixture in his life, and Raleigh is always toddling after him, either on all fours or two unsteady feet. His mother tries to get him to stay in human form more, but he's atrociously stubborn, refusing most of the time to stay on four legs.

 

The first time he shifts, from wolf to human (rather, his mind supplies years later, from female to male), he's two years old, and his mother laughs and scoops him up in her arms, and his father quirks an eyebrow but says nothing else, a smile on his face as well. All his mother says is “Looks like I picked a good name for you after all,”, and he doesn't understand until he's well into his teens, and thinks, _better than Yancy, definitely._

 

His coat goes from the uniform grey that pups always start with and billows into cotton soft white, something Yancy always makes fun of him for. Yancy stays with a grey speckled coat, and the two of them are always pouncing each other in the snow, yipping and barking at each other before dad calls them in for supper. The neighbors think they just have two incredibly bouncy puppies.

 

Nothing really changes when their sister is born, but it does make him aware of something he hadn't really put much stock in before.

 

“Where's her fur?” His expression wrinkles, a frown on his face as he peers down at her, pink and hairless and smelling so _new_.

 

His father laughs, ruffling his hair. “She's not born as a wolf, so she doesn't have any fur right now. She's born human, like me, and Yancy.” Raleigh's face scrunches up again.

 

_Not like me._

 

“So will she get some later? Like how I got two paws later? Yancy's a wolf, though....” He still refers to his own two feet as paws, even with his parents trying to break him out of the habit, lest he say something embarrassing to the neighbors, but its been proving to be a trying experience.

 

“Maybe. We'll have to wait and see.” His father's unending patience is something that Raleigh will come to respect and miss in the future, but for now, at 4 years old, he's just confused.

 

Later, he remembers running to his mother, tears in his eyes, crying.

 

“Why am I different?” He doesn't understand the surprise in her eyes at first, or the hesitance, so he continues.

 

“Daddy said that Jazmine was born human, like him and Yancy, even though Yancy's a wolf. Why am I different?” And his mother's expression softens, realization dawning in her eyes as she leans down and pulls him close. He offers little resistance, and she thanks her lucky stars that he's not yet at that age where affection from parents becomes embarrassing and hard to stomach.

 

“It's okay to be different. I wasn't born human, and that's okay.” He frowns as she wipes away the tears still threatening to fall off of his cheeks.

 

“But why?” His expression is still morose; they've never hid the fact that he was born a wolf from him, as it would be hard to reinsure anyway.

 

She stills, unsure of what to say. It takes a moment for her to collect her thoughts before she answers him.

 

“You're like me, just like how Yancy is like daddy, you know? Sometimes it just happens that way. It doesn't mean anything bad.” She picks him up, balancing him on her right hip; he's not too big to carry this way yet, and even if he was she doubts that would stop her from trying to comfort her son.

 

Raleigh burrows into her shoulder not unlike the way he used to when he was a pup, and she smiles; cuddling is something they never really grow out of. Her hands comb through his soft hair, and he sniffs, the remains of his tears still apparent on her shoulder.

 

“It's okay to be different, Raleigh. It doesn't change who you are.”

 

 

_Anchorage, 2002._

 

 

Raleigh doesn't know what his dad does for a living. He knows that his mommy is sometimes off doing _pack stuff_ , and that daddy doesn't join her because he's not _really_ a wolf, but one of his parents is usually always home for the kids to terrorize. Sometimes daddy goes away for a week or two, which makes them all whine after him to not go, but he always calls and sends stuff home.

 

Sometimes he and Yancy ask mom what dad does, and her answer is usually something along the lines of “He's making things better for us. All of us.” There are deeper implications there, but he's unsure of what they mean exactly. He thinks it has something to do with all the important people daddy sometimes has meetings with.

 

It's one of those weeks, where their father has left on a trip leaving him, Yancy, and Jaz to harass their mother into letting them tromp through the woods on four legs during a particularly nice day. It's Jaz's first real shift, her tiny paws unsteady as she yips after him, tumbling through the snow while he runs ahead and Yancy stays behind her, playing the role of dutiful older brother. Their home is isolated, perfect for running in the night without people seeing them or calling wild life patrol, but mom doesn't let them play alone without supervision.

 

Raleigh doesn't see his mother clearly, but he can feel her there, on the edge of his vision. She's a comforting black shape off in the distance, keeping a watchful eye on them. Behind him, Jaz squawks in surprise when she trips on her front paws, Yancy nearly stumbling over her with his bulk.

 

Probably the only point of contention between the two older Beckets cubs is that Yancy's always been bigger, and will probably _always_ be bigger. No amount of growling and posturing will change that, and every time Raleigh thinks he's about to catch up, Yancy is still a towering mass of fur over him. It makes their play fighting depressingly one-sided and unfair, but maybe once Jaz gets a little older he can get her to tag team Yancy with him. It's probably because his wolf is a girl, and girls are smaller, but that doesn't mean girls are _weaker,_ just look at mom, she's the strongest wolf _ever,_ he thinks.

 

Yancy's a lot slower, though, and Raleigh trots back to them and nips at his heels, before moving over to Jaz and nudging her with his cold nose, to her delight. Yancy snorts in amusement, but his gait slows before stopping in his tracks, his head raised in what is either confusion or curiosity, Raleigh isn't sure. He takes an experimental sniff of the air; their noses aren't quite as sensitive as certain hunting dogs, but are still leaps and bounds over that of a human's.

 

After a moment, a familiar howl echoes through the woods. There are a number of different meanings to what it could mean, but this one is very particular in it's message: an urgent _Come home now._

 

Raleigh's ears flatten in confusion, because they're still supposed to have _more time outside_ , and Yancy howls back in response, communicating their return, before he bends his head down and scoops Jaz up by the scruff of her neck. She wriggles a little and responds with a high pitched whine, but quiets down after a moment and the three of them make their way back home.

 

It takes them slightly longer than usual due to Jaz's squirming and Yancy's inexperience with actually holding a pup by the scruff, and when they get back, the back door is wide open, signaling their mother's return, but there's a scent of wariness in the air. An unfamiliar human scent, separate from the mingled scent of _mom and dad,_ and it's male, dusty, but there is another familiar scent mixed with it.

 

Another wolf, from far away. Perhaps this foreign human's mate?

 

“An _accident?”_ The words float to them through the open door, and in their shuffling in they miss the next part. There's a conversation going on in the kitchen, and they're now only catching the tail end of it.

 

“-m sorry, Kiche.” A gruff, male voice finishes. Their mother is sitting at a chair at the kitchen table, wearing a loose fitting robe she likely grabbed right after shifting back, speaking to a man they've never seen in an unfamiliar military uniform. Her hands are shaking, seated in her lap in plain sight; it's meant to be a comforting gesture from a creature that could probably rip your throat out, but the man doesn't seem scared.

 

He smells like sorrow and regret, as if he doesn't want to be here delivering whatever information it is he's here for. Mom smells sad too, sadder than she's ever been. Jaz whines and mom and the man look towards the kitchen door, where the three of them are huddled together.

 

It's hard, Raleigh thinks, to not immediately shift and run to his mother, because he's never seen her this _sad,_ with tear marks on her face _,_ this strong, powerful she-wolf that's always taken care of and loved them. But something their parents have always instilled within them is the number one rule: _don't shift in front of strangers._

 

“Kids, come here.” His mother's voice jolts him out of his reverie, and he quickly trots over to her, Yancy following him with claws skittering across the kitchen floor. Any other day and he knows she would be scolding them for doing such a thing, _no paws on the tile._

 

The unfamiliar man is watching them now, his expression both surprised and softened by their appearance. A troubled look passes over his face, and for a moment, Raleigh wonders what his thoughts must look like now.

 

His mother's strong hands pull him up into her lap once he reaches her, as he's still small enough to do so. Jaz follows, when Yancy places her on his mother's lap, but he stays by her side, staring balefully up at this stranger in their home.

 

Her hands pull them close, and Jaz is pushed up against him; Raleigh can feel the tremors in his mother's hands, her arms trying to hold them close and seemingly not fall apart in that instant.

 

“My children, Hansen.” She murmurs into their fur, “Our children.” She says again, her voice heavy, and Raleigh feels something wet in his fur, realizing it's his mother's tears.

 

And in that moment, Raleigh knows something has been lost, and he suddenly wishes his father were here, with them and their mother, and he knows whatever this man has to say is not good, even though he doesn't want to hurt them.

 

 

 

 

Life goes on.

 

Hansen, _Hercules,_ leaves their lives shortly after that but he stays in touch. He's got a wee tot at home with his girl, who may or may not be a wolf or a dingo or whatever lives in Australia, depending on what that scent was, but he's a kind man who worked with their father. Doing what, Raleigh still isn't sure, but later on he figures out it has something to do with human and werecreature relations. It's not that the world doesn't know, because werewolves in Alaska, werebears in Russia, what have you, are sort of like an open secret; people just pretend they don't exist.

 

Don't ask, don't tell, if you will.

 

Or something. It doesn't really matter, to be honest, because once giant lovecraftian monstrosities start rising out of the ocean and destroying the world, city by city, it seems kind of unimportant in comparison.

 

Hansen, _please, call me Herc,_ gives their mom a call every so often, maybe because he feels responsible in some way, seeing her at her most vulnerable with her pups in her arms as she broke down, and once in a while even rings up one of them. Raleigh doesn't spend much time talking to him over the years, but he knows Yancy has always been the more polite of the three of them, having more patience than probably himself and Jaz combined. He grows older, puberty sucks, both as a male human and a female wolf, and him and Yancy have resolved to never speak of it ever again.

 

Of course, because he's still a teenager, he acts like a total brat to Hansen every time they speak. The latest call might be the final one, though, with the way things are. But he takes pity on him this time, because not only does Hansen have literal monsters to be fighting, but he's also got a 12 year old who's now determined to be a Jaeger pilot, of all things.

 

“How's that pup of yours? Still no tail?” Even now, Raleigh still uses terms and colloquialisms that he's sure make Hansen roll his eyes, but it's smalltalk regardless. He'd been right about Hansen's girl back home being some sort of Were, but it seemed that the gene had skipped this particular generation. Lil' baby Hansen remains furless to this day, much to Hansen's relief. Not that the guy dislike Weres (he married one, after all) but having to handle saving the world and a baby were-whatever would probably drive the guy to homicide.

 

“ _Driving me up the wall, that's what he's doing. And don't even joke about that, I wouldn't even know where to start if he suddenly sprouted ears and a tail.”_ A smile graces his lips, because as emotionally constipated as Hansen may be, he loves that boy of his. A tired sigh echoes through the other end of the phone following that, sounding tinny in the receiver.

 

“ _The truth of the matter is, I'm not sure how we're gonna do this, kid. We don't have the stamina of you lot, and there are only so many people who qualify for the program to begin with. The only thing we have right now is hope.”_

 

“And giant robots.” Raleigh quips.

 

“ _Don't get too cheeky with me, brat.”_

 

The conversation idles for a little longer, before Hansen is on call and says his goodbyes, leaving Raleigh to stew over what he's been debating for a while.

 

It sounds like an overall bad idea, because they're not humans, they're _wolves,_ and fuck it all, they're supposed to share a _mind_ with someone else? How is that even supposed to work? But he knows there's some merit to Hansen's words; because of what they are, they have a better chance of surviving. It's not even that them being wolves would be the deal breaker, because Raleigh knows that there's a Were on one of the Russian teams. Plus, he doubts his mother will ever forgive him if he went off and got himself killed fighting in giant robots.

 

In the end, however, Raleigh doesn't get much choice in the matter, because Yancy grips him by the arm and pushes him out the door, Hansen's final words echoing through his mind.

 

“ _You were born a hunter. Now go do something about it.”_

 

 

 

By some freak chance, the two of them qualify as drift compatible, and there's a moment of relief where they realize there will be no awkward explanation of _why yes I am a werewolf_ to a prospective co-pilot.

 

To be fair, they do pretty well. Fighting giant monsters, that is.

 

“Mom still not talking to you?”

 

“And she's talking to _you?”_

 

Yancy grimaces at him, “I spent my leave time trying to coax her out of the woods and into a home more inland, you can't blame me for that.” Honestly, though, Raleigh knows that alone was a feat in of itself. Him and mom were always too similar, _and too stubborn,_ to ever agree on anything, so if anyone were able to convince her of anything, it would be Yancy. Getting her to leave Alaska was hard enough, but with her family split, _her pack gone,_ Raleigh would take not talking to her and her being safe over her being fucking dead.

 

Yamarashi goes down in Los Angeles, and the next two in San Diego and Puerto Rico follow suite. It's not until they're deployed to Manila, with 3 Jaegers pit against a Category IV, that they come face to face with Hercules Hansen again.

 

Despite keeping touch over the years, Raleigh jolts with the realization that it's been over _15 years_ since the last time they saw one another in person, and in that time, Hansen had somehow been raising a son on his own while also fighting this war.

 

Still, there's a real smile on Hansen's face when he sees them, far cries from the whimpering pups they were then and now grown men, eye level with him when he pulls them in for what Raleigh can only describe as a manly hug.

 

“You look... grizzled.” Is the only thing Raleigh says, a grin pulling on the edge of his lips. Yancy shoots him a long suffering look, but Hansen just waves him off and chuckles, the happiness in his eyes at seeing them clear enough. Something about it makes Raleigh's throat close up, and his heart feels heavy in his chest. Hansen's scent is almost... proud. Of them, maybe, but he doesn't spend too long on that thought process, because otherwise it'll cause his chest to completely bury his heart.

 

“Funny coming from you, you overgrown pomeranian.” Yancy laughs at this, and Raleigh cuffs him across the head. If it were anyone else, it would have likely left a sizable bruise, but the Becket boys played rough with each other. Mostly because no one else could.

 

There's some more fond chatter before they have to go their separate ways, and Raleigh spends a moment looking up at the 3 Jaegers towering over them. Horizon Brave's crew has already departed, but Striker and Gipsy are silent sentinels, pillars holding up the sky above them and keeping the monsters away.

 

Hansen lays a hand on his shoulder as him and Yancy make to leave, and the look on his face when Raleigh turns to him is fond.

 

“Kid, what you and your brother are doing here... you've done good. Your dad would be proud of you both.” The healed scar that is any mention of their father aches when he hears this, but he just nods, a real smile on his face. Yancy, a little farther away, stiffens, but Raleigh can sense a smile forming on his lips as well.

 

“Thanks, Herc. Take care of that boy of yours.” Hansen... _Herc_ raises a brow at this, but beams back at him, and Raleigh realizes it's the first time he's ever called the man by his first name.

 

Raleigh will think back to this moment sometimes, years later; the last moment where he was truly content for a short time, and his heart will constrict in his chest.

 

 

 

Of course, because life is awful, their next battle with a Kaiju is Yancy's last, and Raleigh's heart is cleaved in two, because he's lost another piece of his family. His pack.

 

 

 

He refuses any and all treatments, and he knows they have him on suicide watch, but he can't bring himself to care. It's not usual for only one pilot to survive. If the Kaiju takes down the Jaeger, it usually takes down both pilots with it.

 

He lasts a week at the Shatterdome, but every night of that week is sheer torture, because he can still hear Yancy howling in his head, _I'm here, I'm here, come back, come back home._

 

He's sitting on his bunk, staring up at the one above him, where Yancy used to sleep. Used to. Jesus christ. He can hear people wandering about at night, listens to voices murmuring about anything and everything, anything to get Yancy's screaming out of his head, out of his heart. There's a familiar set of shoes making their way down to his room, and he already knows instinctively what conversation he's about to have.

 

When Tendo opens the door, Raleigh has all of his sentimental trinkets gathered in a duffel bag, and admittedly it's not much. A couple of Yancy's shirts, a stack of photos held together by a rubber band, and... that's it. He holds the bag, seeming so small, out to Tendo.

 

“Rals...”

 

“I know this is a lot to ask, but could you... hold onto these for me?” _Whether or not I come back is another story_ is left unsaid, but Tendo, amazing, smart, loveable Tendo, who Yancy dreamed about sometimes (and that twists the knife in his heart just a little deeper now), just nods, a solemn look on his face. He doesn't question it, just takes the bag, which seems so regretfully light, despite having what Raleigh considers the last bits of his humanity in it. Maybe that's why it's so light. He wasn't born human, after all.

 

His human skin is no longer able to contain him, and after handing in his resignation and a bag of mementos to a silent, apologetic Tendo, he takes off into the wilderness. He cuts himself off from society, and his skin ripples with the impatience of the wolf wanting to get out, to run and run and run as far as it can, away from the Jaegers, away from the Kaiju, away from the specter of Yancy whispering apologies into his ears.

 

He loses himself in the shift, a white ghost lost to the snow, and lets out a lone, mourning howl. There's no response, as the few wolves left in Alaska have run off to greener pastures, and he's not sure why he even expected on in the first place. The scars from the dive suit remain a vague impression under his fur, a tattoo upon his skin to remind him of what he's done and what he's lost.

 

It's 2020, and Raleigh Becket has disappeared, and no one knows where he's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the hardest time deciding whether or not to kill off Yancy :( I really wanted to write more brotherly shenanigans between them. 
> 
> I decided to slip in a White Fang reference there by naming their mother "Kiche". Next chapter will have bits actually from the movie and Chuck being the lovable asshole that he is.


	2. The places where we find ourselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where some obvious divergence from the movie takes place, but you can count on certain things being the same. Just to be safe, I'm gonna stretch out the days (?) that the movie takes place over into about 2 weeks to longer maybe, starting after Striker Eureka takes down Mutavore in Sydney. Also, super apologies if I get anything factually incorrect; the last time I was in Alaska was over ten years ago.
> 
> LOT OF HERC AND RALEIGH IN THIS CHAPTER WHOOPS ;__; The pairing here is still totally Chuck/Raleigh but Herc manages to shove his way in here because of all the feels he gives me.
> 
> In retrospect, this chapter seems super silly, but oh well. A break from the angst of the last chapter, because that'll be back in the next chapter.

 

_[Alaska, 2025]_

 

Five years, he thinks while gazing out into the snowy tundra, miserably cold and forlorn, is a long time to disappear. Alaska is quiet, big as it is; much of the wildlife has vanished, to where, he's not sure (anywhere away from the Kaiju Blue, probably). Places near the coast are silent, woebegone graveyards that leave his heart heavy, but he pushes it aside for now.

 

When Stacker makes his intentions of finding Raleigh Becket known, Herc doesn't want to say he _jumps_ at the opportunity, but Stacker definitely raises an brow at him when he says he'll do it with perhaps more gusto than could be chalked up to a professional working relationship. It's a last ditch effort; Gipsy Danger is finally brought back online, but there are no known Mark III pilots left in the PPDC to pilot her. None except Raleigh, who vanished off the map after Knifehead and...

 

Herc once again pushes the thought away, because otherwise the guilt would consume him. The Beckets had become a fixture in his life that he's realized he's brought nothing but bad news to, and maybe that's why he partially feels responsible for finding Raleigh, he muses.

 

Still, after Striker'd been decommissioned for a single day, only to have to suit back up _immediately_ , Herc made up his mind, sending a scowling, confused Chuck on ahead to Hong Kong, and set to making a few phone calls.

 

The first of his fears, however, is whether or not Raleigh is even _alive,_ and whether Herc will find himself searching for a living, breathing being or a frost-bitten skeleton. He pushes the thought aside, because at this point, there's no time for grief or mourning.

 

Realistically, he knows the mortality rate for a single pilot left behind after a drift. It's not very high.

 

But he also knows how hardy wolves are, that they're resistant to both radiation and Kaiju Blue to an extent, and that Raleigh is a stubborn brat who would stay alive just to spite him and anyone who's ever pissed him off.

 

Well, the Raleigh Becket of five years ago, at least.

 

And he knows that Raleigh, despite running off into the wilderness without contacting the rest of the world, still loves his pack, still visits his mother sometimes, and could never bear to leave home for long.

 

 

 

The house, when Herc reaches it, opening the door with a key that Kiche had all but thrown while snarling obscenities at him, is a solemn sight. The Beckets still own the property, acres of land ideal for a growing pack, but now it's a silent stony sepulcher, an encasement of memories from another time of a happy family. It's like walking into a museum, he thinks, old trinkets and mementos that they couldn't pack up and take with them taking watch while they were gone.

 

It's like she hoped she'd come back to this home someday, he muses while letting out a warm breath, frosty from the cold. It's inland enough that it's somehow managed to avoid the worst of the Kaiju attacks, and isolated enough for him to wonder how it's managed to slip by the radar of looters.

 

The wolf tracks in the snow around back, far bigger than any natural born wolf, however, tell a different story.

 

Herc sets down the duffel on the dusty kitchen table, the same one he remembers a family's life slowly falling apart at. He's wondering just how he's going to do this when a howl suddenly cuts through the air, through the open door, as if beckoning him out into the fading twilight. He knows enough about wolves from information that the Becket pups peppered at him over to years to recognize it for it is.

 

A call to see if anyone is left.

 

For a moment, he wonders if he should shout back, but he doesn't think it'll carry over the wind. A thought suddenly strike him, remembering something Raleigh had offhandedly mentioned once.

 

“Why the hell not,” he mutters to himself, before heading back outside and facing the direction where the mournful howl had come from. He pulls off his gloves, grimacing at the frigid cold, and cups his hands around his mouth, before letting out an out of practice but still respectable howl (for someone who doesn't turn into a wolf the size of a car).

 

He hears it echo across the empty field that leads to an overgrown forest on the edge of his vision, and quite frankly feels a little embarrassed; here he is, all of his 40 years, howling into the wind like a mad man expecting a response.

 

Except that he gets one.

 

The responding howl is louder, shorter, and he swears he can hear a loud yip in the distance following it. There's a few tense minutes of silence, before he sees movement at the edge of his vision, at the entrance to the wooded area behind the Becket ancestral home. It's hard to tell, but there's something out there, large enough to see even from this far away.

 

Whatever it is (and _god_ does Herc hope it is what he thinks it is, because otherwise just _what_ has he invited upon himself) is slowly making its way through the snow before suddenly taking off like a goddamn shot towards him, and at that he swears because if this _isn't_ Raleigh Becket then Herc may have just signed his own death warrant at wandering into a werewolf's territory.

 

His fears are assuaged once it gets closer, slowing to a graceful lop within a rock's throw of him, it's snow white coat billowing in the wind while blue orbs eyes him suspiciously.

 

God, he forgot how _large_ wolves could be. Herc lets himself remember a phone call with Jazmine complaining about her brothers' atrocious sleeping habits, where they'd cuddle pile on her and ruin her newly done nails. Raleigh at 16 was apparently big enough to cover a queen sized bed by himself, and Yancy was said to have been _even bigger_.

 

This wolf is almost eye level with him, and it looks like it could definitely take down a moose on it's own with no help from a pack. By now, it's within arms reach of him, but he doesn't dare extend his hand lest they get ticked off and decide that he's too tasty to pass up.

 

It takes one step closer, which means it's basically on top of him at this point- Herc can see a network of slightly discolored fur that's impossible to tell from farther away, matching up to what he knows is the dive suit- and sniffs around his head before moving down to his chest, then past his abdomen and-

 

Oh for the love of, “Raleigh! Is this really the time for that, you mutated lapdog?!” For a moment, Herc feels like he's made a mistake and is about to be missing a rather dear part of his anatomy, but the wolf simply stares at him before letting out a huff of what can only be amusement. It would be just like Raleigh to stick his goddamn face where it doesn't belong.

 

Of course, it's then that Raleigh starts to lick his face, so happy and earnest it kills him. And it's every bit as disgusting as when Max does it, if not more.

 

“Stop it! I don't even know where you've been, eating moose carcasses in the middle of the woods-”

 

Still, his relief at finding Raleigh Becket alive is nearly palpable.

 

 

After prying Raleigh's muzzle off of him, an hour later finds Herc seated at the kitchen table, talking over what he's been sent for while Raleigh sits on haunches across from him.

 

Or rather, it's mostly just Herc talking _at_ him, because Raleigh refuses to fucking change back. Every bit of the little speech he'd worked up is either huffed at or rewarded with a baleful look, and it's frustrating him to no end, because he has no idea if Raleigh is actually on board or not (sources point to no).

 

There's also a small part of his mind that is furiously whispering at him, about Weres that became lost in the shift, and never changed back, lost to their carnal urges. Can Raleigh even change back right now, he wonders, after having spent no less than five years in the wilderness? A thought strikes him, sudden, and while it's a long shot, it's the only shot he's got.

 

“Don't know if you saw on the news, but one of them breached the wall in Sydney.” Raleigh's ears perk up, his eyes painfully attentive, because of course he hasn't seen the fucking news, he's been living in the woods for five years, and Herc continues, “Tore right through. Took down Vulcan Specter and Echo Saber before it demolished the wall like a sandcastle. We managed to stop it eventually, but we all know this wall isn't going to cut it.” That had been a right spear to his heart, right there, Vulcan and Echo reduced to just scrap, and he wipes his hand across his face, avoiding Raleigh's piercing gaze.

 

They'd been good men and women. All of them. Including all the people who'd been lost building a fucking wall.

 

“Your mum told me you'd been following the wall for a while before abandoning it.” For the first time, Raleigh looks away at the mention of his mother, and Herc can't really blame him. She'd still never really forgiven him for his place in her boys joining the Rangers, even though he'd never so much as put in a good word for them, but he supposed just his presence reminded her of what she'd lost; her mate, her eldest pup, her home.

 

It had been all her boys, getting in and qualifying by their own merit with no help from him. It would seem in bad taste to be prideful of that, but damn it all, he was proud of them for managing it on their own.

 

“Why? If you wanted to run away, get away from,” and at this, Herc waves in the general direction that he came from, the skeletal remains of the Icebox, “all this, why stay so close? I know if you put your mind to it, you could probably reach the closest part of the wall fairly quick.” For a moment, Herc just feels plain foolish, realizing how ridiculous the situation really is. Sitting at a kitchen table and having a discussion with a werewolf who isn't even responding in _words._

 

But Raleigh understands, and he hasn't tried to run out the door yet, so Herc's counting that as a win, small as it is.

 

“I know... I know you were still connected to your brother when he died, and I can't even begin to imagine how that must have felt. But the world is ending, kid, and we can't afford to run away now. We have one shot at this left.” His eyes follow the intricate marks on Raleigh's otherwise ash white fur, Stacker's parting words echoing in his mind, and a small whine escapes the wolf's throat. He clears his own throat, voice heavy.

 

“ _Tell him that the world's ending, and ask him where he'd rather die; in a Jaeger, or huddled under a wall.”_

 

“You were born a hunter.” Their eyes snap back to each other, and the blue in Raleigh's eyes is so clear, so focused.

 

“Are you going to die a hunter, or prey?”

 

 

 

 

 

As it turns out, getting a wolf Raleigh's size to Hong Kong is not nearly as nightmare inducing as it would seem. The chopper taking them the bulk of the trip has a blissfully large cargo bay, but Herc is still eyeing him with a long suffering glance.

 

“You know, we don't have dive suits in your size. Nor do I think anyone's gonna wanna drift with a wolf the size of a pony. By the time we get you ready to step into a Jaeger, you better _actually be_ on two feet,” Raleigh snorts, his tail thumping into Herc's leg; that's gonna smart later, he thinks with a grimace.

 

When they're within sight of the Shatterdome, about to disembark the chopper, Herc says “Don't eat my dog,” because he knows Chuck will probably there with Max to greet him if he's not still feeling sore about being sent ahead, and Raleigh's tongue lolls out of his mouth, a lupine grin on his countenance; it's hardly a confirmation, the little shit, but Herc will take what he can get at this point.

 

Well, Stacker just said “bring back Raleigh Becket”, not “bring back Raleigh Becket the human”. Good enough for now, he supposes.

 

 

 

 

Chuck isn't there to greet him, and Herc tries to not be surprised and let it bother him, because his son has always been a bit of a little shit, vindictive about simple things. Stacker is there, however, and the expression on his face at Herc stepping out of the chopper with a giant fucking wolf trotting out after him is one for the books. Miss Mori is there as well, unabashedly staring at them, and Herc swears that Raleigh's ears perk up the moment she begins speaking in Japanese to Stacker, who responds in kind and explains.

 

“Try not to look too eager there or your tail'll start wagging.” He whispers to Raleigh, who seems far too mesmerized by Miss Mori to care. Mako introduces herself with a small nod, seeming rather... confused by the whole situation, and Raleigh, to his credit, bows his head in response, getting a warm if not surprised smile from her in return. It seems like he wants to get closer and sniff her coat, but the firm grip Herc puts on his scruff ends that. The action alone is enough to remind him of his manners, as Herc knows he's got no chance in restraining the werewolf if it really came to that.

 

Manners, Herc thinks a moment later, only slightly hysterical, he's a goddamn _wolf._

 

He turns to Stacker, who just sighs, and says “I promise once we get him to his room, with some clothes and a razor,” at this he looks meaningfully at Raleigh's shaggy if not illustrious coat, “He'll be on his own two feet again.” The Marshall doesn't all too look convinced, but he shoots the wolf a look that clearly says _we're going to have words later, Mr. Becket._ The look Raleigh sends back to him, questioning, curious, his nostrils flaring and his ears flattened just slightly, make Herc wonder just how much Raleigh  _knows._ The answer has to be  _more than you'd think,_ because of course the wolf can smell it, can sense the sickness in others.

 

As they make their way to elevator, ignoring the curious looks from more than a few techs (but not nearly as many frightened ones as Herc feared), Mako explains, “I've picked out the 50 best candidates available here for you to test for Drift compatibility...” she continues, but Herc has a sinking feeling that as far as Raleigh cares, he's already found his co-pilot.

 

 

 

 

The following exchange in the elevator causes Herc to wonder on what their science division actually does when no one's looking.

 

“Is there a reason there's a giant wolf in this elevator?”

 

“He's a Jaeger pilot, Doctor Geiszler.”

 

“Oh, of course.” The presence of Weres in the media in recent years has definitely helped with public opinion of them, but as it stands, most people have never been in the same room as one before. Partially it's because they're a fairly quiet group of individuals anyway, but also probably because of how damn _rare_ they are.

 

Doctor Geiszler, _please call me Newt,_ seems like he has a million other things he would desperately like to ask, so Herc takes pity on him.

 

“This pup here, him and his brother took down Yamarashi back in 2017.” At this, a huge grin splits on Newt's face, and he's rapidly pulling up the sleeves of his shirt to show off the impressive tattoos that race up his arms, babbling at speeds that Herc can barely follow.

 

“2,500 tons of pure awesome.” He gushes, and Herc just sighs and shakes his head. Next to him, Raleigh lets out a dismissive snort, but it's laced with amusement. It's good, he thinks, that Raleigh can take it in good nature, can even be around  _people._

 

 

 

“If you even think about licking Miss Mori, Stacker's going to turn you into a new winter coat.”

 

Raleigh's dejected whine only bolsters Herc's suspicions once Mako and Stacker walk far enough ahead of them so that they can't hear the ensuing conversation. He doesn't bother clarifying, because he knows Raleigh can probably smell Stacker's scent layered over Mako's; a father's protective nature must seem so obvious to Weres.

 

It can't just be physical attraction, he thinks, mostly because he doesn't even believe Raleigh _likes_ girls that way. When the Becket boys were picked as candidates, sure, there had been some fear that they'd end up with someone different, but they'd seemingly just _known_ they would be drift compatible. As they pass by Cherno Alpha's docking bay, the thought strikes him that perhaps it's just a Were thing, as the Russians had apparently just taken one look at each other and decided they'd be co-pilots.

 

“Seriously, there are 50 candidates and _she's not one of them,_ so don't even bother trying. You know how the Marshall is.” It's when they get to Striker's section of the Jaeger hangars that the thought of where his own son has wandered off to hits him. Mako and Stacker have wandered over to answer some questions from a nearby tech, and he eyes one of them shooting off in the direction of the control room, idly curious.

 

An excited bark in the distance, followed by a disgruntled _MAX!_ answers that question. He can hear Max's leash skittering after him, his short legs carrying him as fast as they can. Next to him, Raleigh stops, raising his head to experimentally sniff the air. For what, Herc has no clue, because there have been hundreds upon hundreds of different bodies in the hangar and all parts of Shatterdome, and he has no idea how precise the werewolf's nose could possibly be to pick out a single scent.

 

“Remember what I said about not eating my dog.” He warns, gripping Raleigh roughly by the thick scruff around his neck as Max finally scrambles over to them, his stump of a tail wagging wildly.

 

To his great relief, though, Max just peers up at the beast towering above him, another excited bark leaving him. Raleigh seems utterly nonplussed. There's some sniffing from Max, before he seemingly decides, _okay you're good,_ and then strolls over to Herc for pets. Idly, he's always wondered if Raleigh can actually speak to dogs, but it seems to be more of a behavioral thing.

 

It's when Chuck shows up that Herc realizes he should have probably put more thought into this.

 

The grip he has on Raleigh's coat is strained suddenly, and before Herc even has the chance to readjust, the wolf takes off running.

 

 

The relief that Chuck feels when he catches sight of his runaway dog is probably more than he's willing to show on his face, at least in front of his dad. But that relief quickly gives way to (slight, only slight!) panic at the _giant fucking wolf_ bounding towards him.

 

It stops, literally centimeters away from his face, large blue eyes peering curiously at him, it's nostrils flaring as it takes in his scent. There's a small crowd gathered sparsely around them, idly curious but not outwardly worried (fucking _assholes),_ but instinctively he knows there wouldn't be enough people to pull the damn thing off of him in case it decides it wants a snack. There's a bit of a stand off between them, and Chuck takes the moment to look,  _really look,_ at it. To put it plainly, it's quite gorgeous, reminding him of something out of some old Japanese animated movies Mako had forced him to watch when they were children, and for a moment Chuck wonders what it would feel like to run his hands through its long white fur, how it would differ from petting Max.

 

However, he knows enough about Weres (and this _has to be one_ , because why else would there be a goddamn artic wolf the size of a horse here) to not (outwardly) freak out, swallowing audibly but standing his ground. He's Chuck _Hansen,_ he's a Jaeger pilot, the youngest ever out of the Academy, and-

 

The wolf doesn't seem to care, though, because it's moved on from sniffing his face to sticking it's snout straight into his crotch. Which is both uncomfortable and humiliating on a million different levels, because his dad is _right fucking there._

 

“What on earth, _stop you overgrown lapdog-,”_ His face is probably beet red at this point as he scrambles back a few feet after unsuccessfully trying to stop the intruding Were from molesting his junk. He's breathing hard from the surprise, and, yeah, he's definitely blushing from embarrassment, but the wolf just eyes him with what can only be amusement in it's bright blue orbs. _Ass._

 

Without warning, it surges forward again. This time, it stops short of him as the same distance from before, and licks a long wet strip up the side of his face. The only sound that manages to leave his mouth this time is not unlike the cry of a dying cat _,_ because this isn't quite like how it is when Max decides to jump on his bed and wake him up at ass o'clock in the morning by giving him a tongue bath, it's _so much worse._

 

When his father manages to pull the offending beast off of him, Chuck makes a show of wiping the slobber off his face with the sleeve of his jacket, his embarrassment getting the best of him. He grabs Max's leash and walks off without even a simple 'hi' to his dad, trying to recollect what's left of his dignity.

 

 

 

Herc just sighs as he watches his son stomp off to his room. “What do you have to say for yourself?” He looks at Raleigh, who is the picture of innocence, as if he didn't just horribly embarrass his son in a hangar full of at least fifty techs _and_ the Marshall and Miss Mori, who both simply just quirked a brow at the commotion. Still, there's a light in Raleigh's eyes that was missing from before, and he wonders why it took Chuck's appearance to illuminate it. He's had a few other Weres tell him that Chuck smells _strange_ to them, but he's never put much stock in it because Chuck isn't one himself

 

“Never mind, don't answer that. Now get to your room, there's someone who wants to speak to you.” As they walk off, Raleigh trotting next to him, appearing all but like the cat that got the canary, he can't help but mutter “If you have any impure intentions towards _my son, I'll_ turn you into a winter coat.”

 

Raleigh's tongue just lolls out again, seeming way too pleased with himself.

 

 

 

By the time they get to Raleigh's assigned room (across from Mako's, and the wolf nearly veers towards the other door before Herc cuffs him over the head and back towards his own room), his ears perk up. He knows who's on the other side of the door. Herc makes his move to leave.

 

“We'll be expecting you in the mess in about 2 hours. Be there, on _two legs,_ not paws.” Raleigh nods, and Herc makes his way down the hall, before turning a corner and getting out of sight.

 

“It's not locked, I'm just here dropping some stuff off.” At the voice on the other side, he bounds through the door and nearly bowls over a laughing Tendo Choi, his tail fluidly wagging like a pleased snake. Tendo's hands smooth the fur on his head, the familiar feel of the beads of his rosary pressing into the side of his snout, and he can't help but lick the smaller man's cheeks.

 

“Heard you caused quite the commotion down in the hangar.” The look he gets is definitely a “ _Who, me? Never.”,_ and he just laughs again, from deep in his chest. Once they untangle themselves, man and wolf, Tendo points at a familiar duffel bag, little worse for wear, on the bed in the corner.

 

His human life, all shoved into one duffel bag.

 

“Tossed in some more clothes and several razors, you look like you could probably use a trim and a shave.” His fingers twirl a long chunk of fur before letting it fall to gravity, rising from where Raleigh knocked him onto his ass. They eye each other for a moment longer, the smile on Tendo's face threatening to split again, a softness in his eyes that the part of Raleigh that is Yancy has longed for. God, he's missed this man so much, with his slicked back hair and brightly colored suspenders. A familiar face in a different place.

 

“I'll be going now, but I better see you in tip top shape when we go off to see Gipsy, you hear?” It's too bad they can't linger for longer, but apocalypse waits for no one.

 

The yip he gets in return is the closest thing to a yes he'll get, so Tendo just grins as he leaves the room, nodding at a curious Mako from across the hall.

 

 

 

When a cleanly shaven and, more importantly, _human_ Raleigh Becket later steps into the mess hall, Herc can't help but let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him. He waves him down and Raleigh shoots him a thankful smile, as if navigating around on two legs instead of four is still slightly beyond him.

 

Across from him, Chuck, who's now recovered from the antics in the hangar and is definitely never going to speak of it ever again, frowns. “What's he been doing with his sweet time?” And of course, Chuck hasn't connected the Were that accosted him to the man making his way over their table, but Herc says nothing. It would serve him right, for now at least, considering the huge crush Chuck was nursing when he was still a tiny kit at the Jaeger academy. It probably helps that Raleigh's hair color doesn't match his fur, bizarrely enough.

 

“Waiting to get his humanity back, it seems.” Of course, he knows Raleigh can hear them both, even over the cacophony of sound in the mess hall, but when he sits down and sends a sly grin Chuck's way that makes his son flush with anger and maybe a little something else that Herc doesn't want to examine too closely, for reasons he can't explain, he can't even get too up in arms about it aside from giving Raleigh a firm kick in the leg under the table as a reminder.  _No impure intentions towards my son._ He doubts it'll have the effect he wants, but, well.

_  
_Raleigh Becket always was a bit of a reckless kid who didn't always listen to direct orders, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too silly? No worries, we'll get more into Raleigh's head next chapter. That's where all the angst is. Also a bit of an explanation for Raleigh being a total weirdo here.


	3. The strongest soul, seared with scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We introduce some new creatures this chapter, and a whole lot of Raleigh angst. Delicious. I found myself glossing over certain parts of the movie, so forgive me there. I feel like I might be dawdling a bit as I keep adding more and more padding to this, but hopefully everyone is enjoying it so far! Everyone who's left kudos and comments has truly warmed my heart ;__; thanks everybody!
> 
> Also, supreme apologies for the google translate Russian and random tense changing in this chapter. If anyone has any corrections for me, that'd be fab. Trying to get into the headspace of characters who don't speak very much has been very trying for me, ha, as is TRYING TO GET WHO'S NAME IS WHAT RIGHT, sighhhh.

_Anchorage, 2020_

 

 

 

_Raleigh, Raleigh-_

 

He doesn't remember getting to shore.

 

He doesn't even reach the shore, not completely. Gipsy falters in the last stretch, falling into the roiling waves, and he can feel her strain to stay above water. It's a useless endeavor, however, and water begins to flood the conn-pod.

 

_Raleigh, listen to me-_

 

He can't be in his own skull right now. He doesn't want to be human, he doesn't want this skin that is too small to contain him, he doesn't want to _hear-_

 

The great deluge crashes into him, burying him beneath what will soon be thousands of pounds of water, and he can feel his thoughts begin to slip away, carried off by the waves. He gasps, in that split second realizing that there's no way he can hold his breath long enough in these frigid waters. Wolves were not meant to swim, not like this.

 

Raleigh Becket does not want to accept death, but he cannot fight it. How can he, without Yancy here to face it down with him?

 

He doesn't see the oblong shapes dart into the conn-pod, nor does he feel bodies swimming through the sluice around him. Long webbed fingers feel around his face, the front of his helmet now long busted open, passing over his lips and ripping out the leftover shards of the mask.

 

What he does feel is being bodily disengaged from the rig, strong arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him free, before the sea welcomes him into blissful darkness as the water fills his lungs.

 

_Raleigh?_

 

 

 

 

 

_Hong Kong, 2025_

 

The thing no one ever tells you about shifting into human form is how many _less legs_ you have.

 

Raleigh doesn't want admit it, but 1.5 of the 2 hours he spent “getting ready” was mostly relearning how to walk on two feet again without tripping over them and falling flat on his face. Five years in the wilderness with only the very rare visit to his mother's home hundreds of miles away were not terribly conducive to remember “how to human”. It's one thing to be off of the four legs that have carried him through the hardest times of his life, and another to be back in a body that has ghosts hovering around it constantly.

 

At least as a wolf, he can take comfort in the howls circulating in his mind, pretend that he's not alone and that Yancy and Jaz aren't gone, just... out of sight. In the distance, waiting for him, as if Raleigh could just run up and meet them if he ran fast enough through the snowy haze of his memories. But it's like he just can't catch up, which is stupid, because he was always faster than Yancy anyway, with Jazmine not far behind, and mom, a silent sentinel watching over them from far away.

 

The grief was always easier to deal with as a wolf.

 

Of course, he also realizes how goddamn _crazy_ that sounds and that if he ever confided this in anyone, they'd definitely cut their losses and pull him out of the program. As it stands, too few pilots left seemed to force the Marshall's hand, and thus Raleigh now finds himself seated next to Herc Hansen in the mess hall, making eyes at Herc's petulant asshole son, who bristles like a wet cat.

 

Fuck, just walking into the commissary was trying enough. Hundreds of different scents and sounds, intermingling with one another, and if he didn't focus his attention on the Hansens, he might have become completely overwhelmed. The look that one of the Russian Weres shoots him as he passes by assures Raleigh that words, and maybe more, will be shared later as well.

 

Still, harassing Chuck is a nice distraction, as Mako is apparently off-limits as his co-pilot (which, if he has his way, won't last for long). When he's around them, the both of them, the ever present buzz in his head dulls, and he doesn't know if it's a freak occurrence or not, but he's willing to test it out.

 

Maybe he's romanticizing it too much, idly basking in Chuck's strong scent, an amalgam of a Were long gone, his father, the sweat and grease from long time Jaeger piloting, and of all things, the fucking dog. Mako's scent reminds him of the plum rains, from back before the Kaiju Blue toxicity levels overtook huge chunks of Tokyo, the Marshall's presence a stern reminder surrounding her shoulders, an invisible specter to all but those who can sense him.

 

Jazmine was a spring breeze, flowers in bloom, and Yancy was the winter snowstorm, strong and firm. And if Mako is the soft rains, then Chuck is the roiling storm, aiming to take out a piece of him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“And when was the last time you jockeyed, eh?” How Chuck doesn't connect Raleigh to the wolf that nuzzled his junk is completely beyond Herc, but he figures the embarrassment soon to follow once his son is finally enlightened will be good for him.

 

Next to him, Raleigh pauses for a moment, slowly and deliberately chewing his food while his son glowers at them from across the table. What Herc doesn't know is the truly colossal effort Raleigh is putting into resisting the temptation to shove his face snout (mouth, _mouth)_ first into his plate (it's been so long since he's had _food_ that is _cooked,_ good lord), because that would just be the cherry on the sundae, wouldn't it? Humiliate both generations of Hansens within a three hour span, that would look great on his track record.

 

“About five years.”

 

“Oh? Must have been doing something _really_ important, then. Let's hear it.” He stretches out the word, and Raleigh swears that if he could get away with it, Chuck would have his chin on his hands like a thirteen year old girl ready to engage in some juicy gossip.

 

The question causes him to still, because honestly, what can he answer that with? _I spent five years running around in the wild, eating moose and fighting bears,_ or something equally inane (if not depressingly true to life). So he decides to go with as close to the truth as he can manage.

 

“Searching for something I'd lost, I suppose you could say.” Chuck doesn't look impressed one iota.

 

“Hm, well, I for one am glad that five years of soul-searching in whatever backwater place you've been means you'll be good to run defense for us. I'm sure we can just _talk_ it out with the Kaiju if we get into any trouble down there.” Despite the fact that Chuck is trying to obviously be as abrasive as possible, Raleigh still finds his paws ( _fingers,_ paws _cannot grip)_ tightening around his fork. He'll have to watch himself if he doesn't want to begin sprouting claws and digging them into the table top, not unlike what him and Yancy would do when they were pissed off at each other. Leaving claw marks on each others things used to drive mom _crazy._

 

“Now, my dad over there, he likes you, for whatever reason that my brain just can't handle, but me? I see it how it is. It's wash-outs like you that got the program decommissioned in the first place, so if you lag behind, I'll drop you like a sack of Kaiju shit.”

 

Chuck, possibly more smug than he was before, takes off with Max in tow. Herc just stares at his plate with the most forlorn expression Raleigh could possibly imagine someone gazing at mashed potatoes with.

 

“I'm to blame for that one, as you know.” Raleigh's eyes just follow Chuck as he disappears out of sight, the scent of him still trailing slightly after; he's never once thought of Herc as a bad man, but a bad father? He doesn't have much experience on that front either, he supposes.

 

“After Angela, you know... He never really forgave me for it. For choosing him. And I guess I was never good enough with words to explain it to him, that there really was no choice.” That's a story that Raleigh only knows a small part of, but he doesn't pry. Herc has been privy to nearly all of the tragedies in Raleigh's life, involuntarily, but he's not about to ask for the same courtesy to be extended by the older man.

 

Still, Raleigh knows him well enough where he's almost sort of touched that Herc trusts him enough to say these things, even if to this day, they've only ever really seen each other three or so times in the flesh, but that's okay. It's obvious to anyone with two eyes that the relationship between father and son is essentially non-existent outside of a Jaeger.

 

“Then he became a pilot, and we found ourselves Drift compatible, and, well, you know the rest. Seems like even now I can't find the right words to say when I'm sharing a brain space with him. Was never really sure whether to give him a good kick the ass or a hug, after that.” Raleigh spends a moment considering that, before answering.

 

“I think a little bit of both wouldn't hurt. That's how our mom raised us, and look at what shining examples of humanity we turned out to be.” Herc snorts, but there's a small smile on his face.

 

Herc had never once tried to replace their father, insomuch as it was both impossible and just unwelcome, but he'd tried, made an honest effort to keep tabs on them. Raleigh refused to believe that a man who would keep in touch with the bratty, sometimes downright ungrateful, children of an old friend long gone was the kind of man who wouldn't at least _try_ to be a good father to his own son, but then, not everyone had a son like Chuck Hansen. Raleigh had been pretty awful to him in his own youth, but he would never deny that Hercules Hansen was a good man, if not one of the best.

 

“I'm pretty sure I was worse, anyway. Remember me five years ago?” He tries to keep it light, because that's something between father and son that he's not privy to, and likely won't be for a while, but Herc just pushes his mashed potatoes around.

 

“Five years ago you were his age, and, might I just add, you also turn into a four-legged shag rug.” He stops staring at his plate for a moment, considering, “Or rather, you're a four-legged shag rug that sometimes turns into a man.” Of course, just because someone was a good man didn't necessarily translate into him being great at the fathering gig _._ He wonders for a moment how Herc could have been such a good father to his men rather than his own son.

 

“I think, though...” he puts his now very bent fork down on the table, meeting the older man's gaze, “That what it really comes down to is respect, sir. That's what he needs to learn.” Raleigh hasn't called Herc “sir” since he first graduated from the Jaeger academy, a congratulatory message waiting for him on his answering machine, when Raleigh realized that where some men seemed to attract scorn, others, like Herc, garnered respect.

 

“Is that what you learned then, when you were that age?” Along with humility, mortality, and bone deep loss.

 

“That, and that as indestructible as we may seem, wolves can't swim a fraction as well as seals.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chuck Hansen is an anomaly.

 

Quite frankly, Raleigh finds the whole alpha male posturing thing _adorable_ , but it's strange because _Chuck Hansen is not a Were._ He doesn't turn into a wolf or a dog or a cat or a bear, he just turns into a bigger asshole. While Raleigh would normally just dismiss any human who acted like that, chalking it up to over-compensation or testosterone poisoning (and having dealt with several of those back at the Icebox, anyway), for some reason with Chuck, it _feels_ like verbal sparring with a Were.

 

It's amazing, though, that the scent of another Were, his mother, gone ten years to the day, still remains about him. He can't exactly tell _what_ she was, but there's something about the scent that you could always tell when it belonged to something decidedly _not human._ It's unusual, as far as things like that go; the scent of a person, Were or otherwise, is as much literal as it is an analogy for who they are, and Angela Hansen apparently left _quite_ the imprint on her young son for it remain as long as it as. As far as Raleigh knows, as far as Herc would tell him, Chuck has never shown any traits of shifting or anything close to it, but he wonders, more than once, if the younger man is just what could be called a _late bloomer._ Genetically, it's possible. Probable, though? Who knows.

 

It's not unheard of, people shifting late in the their lives, the genes apparently just switched off until needed, some sort of bizarre evolutionary defense perhaps. Raleigh doesn't know for sure, more than once debating going down to Newt and Hermann's shared lab to ask, but he figures the Kaiju are a tad more important than _“hey, could you maybe explain why this one guy smells weird? Not bad-weird, though, good-weird. Thanks.”_

 

He plays with the thought of what Chuck would actually be like as a Were; probably giving Herc even more gray hairs. If the kid (and really, it's hard to remember that he's the same age Raleigh was when his life had been cut down by yet another half life) ever got over himself and learned some respect, now _that,_ that would be a Were that was worthy of being a real Alpha if he'd been a wolf.

 

With the way that wolves in particular lived, Raleigh would never be an Alpha, mostly because he wasn't even actively looking for another Were to become an Alpha pair with for life; that was what Yancy could have been, if he'd lived. Yancy as a wolf was more dominant, more in control of things, and quite frankly was way better with responsibility, much more suited to that sort of life. Somewhat wistfully, he didn't exactly see many pups in his future, either.

 

Plus, he'd all but banished himself to Omega status when he'd cut himself off from everyone five years ago; the Alpha of what remained of the Anchorage pack was not exactly his biggest fan at the moment.

 

He'll worry about the mystery of Chuck Hansen later, however; right now, he has a co-pilot to secure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like he'd thought, none of the candidates can pass muster, but he still feels sloppy with his handling of them. He doesn't want to admit its from not having stood on two legs in over five years, and that he's perhaps still not as steady on his own two feet as he'd like to be. Part of the effort was simply _holding back_ and trying to make sure he didn't permanently cripple any of them. But it's a lost cause, anyway; none of them are simply on the same wavelength as him.

 

_It's a dialogue, not a fight._

 

But baiting the Marshall into letting Mako test her mettle against him is worth the jelly legs he's definitely going to be feeling later. Definitely worth it for the rush he gets when she steps barefoot onto the mat, strolling past him and then turning to face him.

 

“I won't be dialing down my moves.” He's not actually being entirely facetious when he says this, because he knows he's not at his best right now. If he actually went all out against Mako, he has no doubt she'd be able to hold her own for a bit, but in the long stretch, the strength and stamina of even the most fit human would always falter to that of a Were's, let alone ones as naturally as athletic and known for their power as wolves. One well timed slash or punch from him and she'd be down for the count. Maybe permanently, he thinks somewhat grimly.

 

Humans can be so fragile, he muses, watching the way her eyelashes flutter as she seems to change into a different person, a _shift_ in the most human sense of the word, handling the staff like an extension of herself. Maybe he _is_ tilting at windmills here, but how can he not, when her scent is so soothing to him, reminding him of home and _pack?_

 

“Then neither will I.” The look she gives him is absolutely electrifying, and a sliver of excitement flies up his spine in anticipation. He smirks, getting into position; women are not what he finds himself primarily attracted to, but Mako, _Mako._ She would be an amazing Alpha, he knows, even with her destiny to stay human.

 

Maybe not so fragile, then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of the Russian Weres approaches him afterward, their scent so intermingled that he can't tell which is which this close, after the Kwoon is mostly cleared out, and Raleigh turns to face them. The husband, Aleksis, who Raleigh met once before, years ago in another lifetime, back when Raleigh couldn't speak a lick of Russian and likewise for the other, stands before him. His wife, because even though no one has told him straight out, he knows a mated pair when he sees one, stands further back, but there is an unreadable look on her face, and Raleigh feels like he's being judged or tested for something.

 

“You seem like you are in need of some blowing off steam, molodoy volk.” His words are heavily accented, in a clipped voice, but while he stern and curt, his overall tone is one that is more friendly than threatening. Most people wouldn't be able to tell, but then, most people don't turn into animals and take social cues from the same thing.

 

The frown that was playing off his face from Pentecost's earlier ultimatum falls away at what is being offered, and he realizes that the Russians, being what they are, know what ails him, probably having faced a similar problem themselves. He needs to burn off this nervous energy before he gets into the Conn-pod, or else he might overwhelm whoever else is in the pod with it. It's not something that is usually problematic for humans, but if he's too excited, there might be a feedback loop between the neural sharing, and that would be... bad. There had been a time when him and Yancy had unintentionally created a feedback loop between the two of them, not because they'd fallen out of phase, but because of that exact same problem, and the plug had to be pulled before they'd both ended up with fried brains.

 

It can't be a completely charitable move, though, because he's sure that they're just as curious about him as he is about them. At least, he thinks the fact that they dye their hair to match is a cute touch.

 

“What are you proposing, then? I have to be at the test run in three hours, I doubt the Marshall would appreciate it if I went there missing limbs.”

 

“Then we will not go that far. Will take too long to regenerate. Ten minutes will be enough for first round.” Ten minutes isn't very long for a workout, but as Raleigh hadn't even broken a sweat against the candidates, he's curious to see where this will go. Evidently, it seems, so are a few of the stragglers left behind watching the exchange between them, which include the Wei Tang triplets.

 

“No staff. The only weapon you are allowed is yourself.” Sasha speaks, her voice crisp, cutting like the hard steel of Cherno's frame. Raleigh eyes her from across the room where she stands with her arms crossed, regarding her posture.

 

“Do I get to see your pretty claws, too?” Aleksis laughs, a booming sound that echoes off the walls, and some of the techs look downright _terrified,_ while Raleigh can spy identical grins on the faces of Typhoon's pilots in the back.

 

“My claws are for my husband only, _molodoy volk_.” Sasha narrows her eyes, but there is the most miniscule hints of upturned lips on her otherwise stony visage. Unsurprisingly, the only snickers heard under breath are from the Wei Tangs, who are probably the only humans in the room with the balls to laugh around the Russians anyway.

 

Idly, Raleigh wonders about just what Sasha turns into. Some sort of feline, probably, something cold and frigid; his mind quickly shuffles through various big cat breeds, and he decides to place his bets on some sort of Leopard.

 

“Alright then, maybe next time.” He quips, shaking out his shoulders. Aleksis shrugs off his heavy jacket and his many rings (something for which Raleigh is secretly grateful of, because, _ow,_ no thanks), handing them off to Sasha with such fondness in his eyes that it almost hurts Raleigh to look at them. “Rules?”

 

“No disemboweling. No severing of limbs. Broken bones will be limited to arms and legs. Blood is fine. Partial shifting is allowed. There will be no points counted. Like gentlemen.” A flat out brawl, then. The way Sasha lists off the rules is akin to a literal laundry list; unconcerned and mundane, as if she's just leisurely discussing the weather. _Like gentlemen,_ jesus christ.

 

“Sounds fine to me.” Aleksis nods back, making a show of cracking his neck audibly; some of the peanut gallery in the back are even more nervous than before.

 

Where Sasha looks like she could be carved from smooth marble, a bleached blonde Galatea born out of alabaster, Aleksis is all hard, harsh lines, a solid stone wall that towers high enough above him that he has to crane his neck up for their eyes to meet.

 

“Begin.”

 

It's been a very long time since Raleigh has gone up against someone who he could consider on equal footing. Under his skin, his wolf surges up, excited at the prospect of a real fight, claw to claw and fang to fang. It's not downplaying the pure thrill he had while sparring with Mako earlier, because this is different, more primal and animalistic. There's going to blood spilled, and someone is probably going to have to replace the mat in the Kwoon. He'll be at the damn test run to drift with whatever poor soul gets shackled to him, Mako notwithstanding, but he's determined to at least get some of this frustration out here.

 

There must be something apparent in either his eyes or his fingers, which he can already feel sharpening in anticipation, because he sees something similar in Aleksis' own eyes, which flash dangerously, the only warning Raleigh gets before the larger man comes barreling towards him, arms outstretched to grapple him, most likely.

 

He only manages to dodge at the last second, feeling the sheer force behind the lunge in the air displaced around him. If he hadn't managed to get out of the way, the fight would have likely been over very quickly; broken bones were off the table but Raleigh rather liked his ribs where they were, not fractured and uprooted.

 

This is the very literal definition of a bear hug, he thinks, somewhat hysterically, as he darts back from another swipe from Aleksis' now very intimidating claws, large and black and definitely able to rip out chunks of his flesh. One slash from them and a regular human being would be split in half. He bounces from foot to foot, already feeling the shift rumbling from deep within him.

 

“Come on, _medved,_ let's see what those shiny black claws of yours can really do.” His Russian is passable at best, and maybe the taunt isn't the best. The matching wide mouthed grins he gets from _both_ of the Kaidanovskys is somewhat worrisome, but he just gives them a shit eating grin in return.

 

If any of them manage to survive this war, Raleigh is certain that these two are going to make terrifying, beautiful babies with bleached blond hair.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He steps into the conn-pod three hours later, suited up and glad that the suit is all encompassing, because while this is still just a test run, there might be some hot words exchanged if the Marshall, or god forbid, Tendo, sees the now healing giant gouges that are very nicely lined up with his ribs. Despite how they gruesome they initially seemed, now they're simply pleasant aches, reminders, taking his mind away from everything else for the moment.

 

The pain is a nice distraction, keeping him grounded and helping him politely ignore Yancy yammering at him as he stands by the left hemisphere rig, seemingly brought back in full force at the sight of the familiar cockpit.

 

“Tendo, are the weapons disabled?” It seems like such an obvious question, and Raleigh is sure that if anyone else were in Tendo's place they'd probably take it as an insult, but Raleigh has a very real fear that maybe only Tendo would really understand; he hasn't stepped in to a Jaeger in five years and four months, and he's not entirely sure what he's going to bring into the Drift with him. There are too many memories that could slip through despite his best intentions, and even though pilots are vigorously _encouraged_ to get over any embarrassment concerning shared memories, there are still things he shouldn't subject his co-pilot to, like nearly drowning in sub-zero waters.

 

Things like that tend to cause nasty weapon mishaps, he's found.

 

“ _All weapons offline, brother. No worries here.”_

 

He can hear the heavy boots of a dive suit clomping towards the conn-pod in the distance, idly wondering when the next time he'd be able to get some sparring time again with the Kaidanovskys; probably not soon, at the rate that Kaiju are coming out of the breach. Suddenly, his head perks up in a way that is embarrassingly earnest, the scent finally close enough for him to discern. It's a habit that Yancy would always give him shit for, saying “good dog” and then patting him on the head after, causing more than one squabble between them. Yancy was lucky that Raleigh had never actually come through with his threat to dye his brother's fur pink while he slept, which is too bad, because as a wolf he would have looked very fetching in magenta.

 

By the time his new co-pilot reaches the right hemisphere rig, Raleigh finds it impossible to keep the smile off his face.

 

Mako faces him, looking fucking fantastic in her dive suit, a small smile mirroring his own and betraying the downright _glee_ that he can sense radiating off of her. Seems like the Marshall had a change of heart after all.

 

“You look good.” It sounds lame to his own ears, and if Yancy were here he'd be mercilessly mocked, but as it is, he's too pleased to care right now; if he'd had a tail it would be wagging right now, playing right into Yancy's old taunts.

 

 

Maybe Raleigh, broken as he is, could be part of a pack again, someday.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> molodoy volk = young wolf  
> medved = bear  
> (google translate probably fucked these up, though, so these are probably super grammatically incorrect anyway)
> 
> For those of you who are interested, the exact species of the Kaidanovskys are a Far Eastern Leopard and a Kamchatka Brown Bear, respectively. Raleigh himself is an Arctic Wolf, with his siblings having been Grey Wolves; mummy is a melanistic Grey Wolf.
> 
> p.s. you should all come harass me at my tumblr [here](http://happyasaghost.tumblr.com/)


	4. Something that was lost to the sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea that Mako and Chuck grew up around each other, simultaneously being the only ones either of them could relate and also as the occasional snark buddies, so that shows through here a lot. Chuck is probably the hardest character for me to write, though mostly because I have a hard time outwardly being mean to people, hahahaha. Again, I tried to stick fairly close to movie canon for certain scenes but I couldn't help but want to, ah, change, certain things (LIKE WHY THE HELL WEAPONS WERE ONLINE DURING THE TEST RUN, _STACKER, TENDO_ ).

 

“ _Initiating Neural Handshake.”_

 

It starts out _amazing,_ and despite his initials worries of _how am I even going get back into Gipsy, I can't do this again,_ they synchronize almost immediately, the familiar hum of being in another person's head wrapping around him, memories of piling onto his siblings running through his head. Mako is a warm, solid presence beside him, and he's even more acutely aware of every moment she, _they as one,_ make.

 

Of course, because life loves to throw curveballs at him, it's not that easy.

 

He's suddenly blasted with the specter of himself, fear and panic evident in his eyes before he's bodily torn away, eyes still locked and arm outstretched to his younger self. It's not his own but Yancy's memory, his _last_ memory, before he was ripped from their life forever.

 

“ _Gipsy, Gipsy! You're both out of alignment, and your synch levels are dropping quick!”_ Tendo's professional clipped tone comes through the comm and breaks him out of his drift caused stupor, but Raleigh's known him long enough to hear the mild panic in his voice. It's enough to pull him back, however, as he shakes off the memory.

 

“ _Raleigh, you're back on track but Mako's still out.”_

 

It's too late, however, his memory throwing her off; there are too many memories flowing through the drift now between them. He sees Mako's memories fly by, but his own are too numerous – and he doesn't have time to ponder that, why there are so _many_ , he used to be so good at this – and they overwhelm her.

 

_He's young, running with Yancy and Jaz – being picked up by his mother, burying himself in her arms – dad ruffling his hair, telling him and Yancy to look after Jaz and mom while he's gone – Herc's face filled with regret – his brother ripped away from him and thrown into the abyss, and his sister, pleading with him to come home - his siblings were swallowed by the sea, one fighting it and the other taken away when he wasn't looking – His mother's last human words to him, her shaking hands pulling his lupine face close and leaving a kiss on his forehead, her tears cascading onto his fur. “You are so good and I love you, be good, be strong, stay alive, please.”_

 

She sees the R.A.B.I.T., and she latches on, pulled in too deep already _,_ dragging him along for the ride.

 

It ends with Mako gasping for breath as she's pulled off the rig and into Raleigh's arms. He thanks his lucky stars they had the foresight to disable all the weapons, his arms around her like a vice, unwilling – or unable, he's not sure, the aftereffects of the drift still coursing through him – to let her go, to be _parted_ from her. His fingers, _paws,_ he forces them to shift back but only manages to sheath his claws, the pads of his hands now _literal_ paw pads, stroke her face, a calming gesture learned from a man long gone, while he murmurs a litany to her ears, _sorry sorry sorry I'm so sorry._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mako stands on a cold, snow covered beach by a frigid, tremulous shore.

 

Raleigh's phantom memories from the drift and disastrous training session earlier that day replay through her head like a rewinding cassette tape, in vivid color. There must be some sort of bleed effect here because she has never been to such a place, and she thinks, possibly more aware than she really should be, _this must be a dream_.

 

There's a wolf on the beach right next to her, large and covered with beautiful white fur, as though waiting for something. It's staring out into the sea, ears twitching and alert. The ocean gives no clear answer, however. She can't feel the cold but she can imagine it, her hair whipping around her in the wind.

 

For a moment, she's too caught up in her reverie to reel back in horror at the realization that neural ghosting is still in effect, that unconsciously she's still held captive by his memories. She can see the – fresh – imprint of the dive suit as an off white on otherwise unblemished fur, in greater detail now that she has the time to really _look_. When she'd first met him, it had been difficult to not spend a great amount of time ruminating at the thought; as least as a human, he could hide it beneath the bulky, heavy clothing he wore, but as a wolf, it was on display for all the world to see. Anyone who could recognize the circuitry of the dive suits would know.

 

Suddenly, there's movement off in the sea, too far out for her eyes to discern. The wolf – _Raleigh –_ because that's the only person it could be, springs up in surprise, a hurried whine escaping his throat. Worried, anxious. Something breaks across the water's surface from beyond the fog, and Mako can't be sure, but it looks like... a _flipper?_

 

More forms reach the surface and begin to converge upon the beach; she counts four separate bodies aside from the first one, and Raleigh is downright impatient by the time the latter four reach them. Their forms slide onto the beach, awkward and ungainly as they attempt to crawl forward on limbs not meant to walk on land, but once they get nearer Mako can clearly see them for what they are. At first she thinks they are seals, but when a few of them abruptly _shift,_ the words escape her mouth before she can stop them.

 

“ _Selkies...?”_ Indeed, creatures she has only seen in the scant few books she has read on Weres and their close relatives, lay before her, their smooth and dark bodies, thick and powerful, glistening with water droplets. They were perhaps not as mythical as legends told, where they could not turn back if a human had taken their pelt, but to Mako, they were still breathtaking to behold.

 

The furthest one, larger than the rest and still in the water, is dragging something along with it, she realizes with a jolt. Whatever it is, Raleigh sniffs the air, his body tensing before the Selkies that are closest to him reach out with now human hands. At first, Mako thinks they are making to grab him and drag him back into the sea, but her fears are unfounded, as they seem to be _keeping_ him from making a mad dash into the ocean.

 

While the Selkies seem to be trying to hold him in place, Raleigh is whining and crying out, and Mako's heart twists in her chest at the soul-rending sound; his panic is nearly palpable, and the Selkies are putting even more effort into keeping him still. The one still in the water has just reached the shore, and Mako finally sees what it has pulled along with it, placing it gently onto the beach. Her heart fills with dread at the sight.

 

It's another wolf, soaked to the bone and unmoving.

 

Raleigh breaks free and rushes over to the downed wolf, his paws scrambling over snow and sand alike, his cries like shards of glass to Mako's heart. There is a moment where she wants to believe, _hopes,_ that the smaller wolf is still alive but...

 

He nudges the smaller wolf with his nose, as if hoping to revitalize them and have them spring up to greet him, but there's no response. No movement, no life, no breath; just a small, broken body, taken by the sea.

 

The Selkie that brought the wolf to shore looks on at them, regret plain upon her face at the tragedy playing out before her. She raises one webbed hand, more of an elongated flipper, and waves over the remaining Selkies still on land. They raise their heads back to her and depart quickly into the sea, leaving Raleigh, the dead wolf, and the last Selkie.

 

Raleigh's whines have turned to flat out whimpers, curling himself around the smaller wolf and dwarfing it in size. He's not going to leave it.

 

The Selkie makes a low sound in her throat, Mako recognizing it as a murmured apology, and then turns and dives back into the ocean. Mako wrenches her eyes away from the sight before her to watch the water displace around the seal as the long narrow body disappears beneath the waves, before turning back to her co-pilot.

 

But that's when her brain throws her into consciousness.

 

Raleigh's long, mournful howl echoes in her mind even as she jolts away, covered in sweat. She swipes at her face as she sits up, out of the dive suit and in her bed (- _strong arms putting her down as gently as she remembers, being held like a child-)_ , pushing away the tears she knows want to fall. She cannot spend this time grieving a person she has never met, will never meet, because everyone has lost something, has lost _someone._ One man's memories shouldn't drive her to tears, not when there's no _time left_ to even grieve.

 

All she can think, however, is that wolves were not meant to swim, and that Raleigh Becket has lost much to the sea.

 

Suddenly, there's yelling from the down the hall, from the direction of Stacker's quarters, she realizes, and jumps to her feet, ignoring the feeling of slight vertigo as she makes her way out the door.

 

 

 

 

 

“You're a bloody disgrace, you know that? First time you step into a Jaeger in five years and you nearly put your co-pilot into a goddamn _coma_. You're lucky LOCCENT pulled the plug before you completely fried her brain!”

 

Raleigh lets Chuck yell and go off on him, because he can still smell the mix of downright _worry_ and _anxiety_ that the Australian pilot is still giving off. In his own emotionally constipated and eternally angry way, Chuck Hansen is worried about Mako Mori, and if Raleigh weren't internally flagellating himself at his own stupidity he'd find it cute. As it stands, however, they really _are_ lucky that the plug was pulled in time, or else they'd be down yet another pilot and Raleigh would probably be a nice comforter to drape on her hospital bed, compliments of the Marshall.

 

“We don't even need the Kaiju picking us off at this point, not when we've got _you_ doing that all on your own for us.” Herc and Stacker are still sequestered in the Marshall's quarters, discussing what a disaster the two of them were probably, even though Raleigh can sense that the Marshall would much rather go be at Mako's side. She'd quickly fallen unconscious after being pulled off the rig, but otherwise her vitals were fine, something which Raleigh will be grateful for to his dying day. Which, if Stacker has his way, probably won't be that far off.

 

Strictly saying, from LOCCENT's point of view, it wasn't entirely his fault. He'd thrown them out of alignment by falling out of phase first, but he'd managed to reel himself in. Mako, however, had seen something she just couldn't let go of, a memory that haunted her still.

 

Having seen it, Raleigh can't exactly fault her. For a first run, even, it wasn't that bad. Him and Yancy had nearly ruined each other with their first drift, and they were significantly more sturdy.

 

Of course, Yancy's dead and leaving reminders of himself everywhere Raleigh goes, and Raleigh's brain is spectacularly mushier than it should be in some places now considering that he probably (okay, definitely) received brain damage way back then. So, maybe not the best example.

 

Regardless, he couldn't _not_ blame himself. He knew better, he'd been through this before, he-

 

“Are you even listening to a word I'm saying, _Ra_ leigh?” And there's Chuck again, with that obnoxious tone of voice. For whatever reason, there had been a time in his life where he'd been excited to meet Herc's jackhole son, mostly to taunt the man for his poor fathering skills (and jeez, he's glad he never went through with that), but that's a ship that's long since sailed.

 

He looks at Chuck then, _really_ at him, and there must be something in his blue eyes that Chuck must see in his own to make pause; not enough to back off, but there's a considering look between them.

 

“I'm listening.” He says it like it's a promise, his hands balled into fists at his sides to hide the fact that his claws are literally digging into his palms right now. If he were to actually lose control and take a swing at Chuck, the kid might not actually stand back up, determined little shit he might be.

 

It's then, when they're glaring at each other with an intensity Raleigh doesn't remember holding within himself since he was younger and stupider, that he hears the door to Mako's room slide open, her soft footsteps, if only slightly unsteady, music to his ears.

 

“Then listen to this, mate; I'm sure it was pretty ace when you racked off to wherever the fuck you decided to disappear to for five years, but me? I rather like my life, and I'd like to keep living it, and I don't know if I'll be able to enjoy being alive with you playing defense for us. If Mako...” And here, he stops, as if struggling with the words, breaking their gaze for a moment. God, Raleigh thinks, somewhat amazed, he's actually _upset_ about this for reasons other than just being a pure asshole. It's almost endearing how he's mad on Mako's behalf; there might still be hope for Chuck Hansen to become a somewhat well adjusted human being just yet.

 

Chuck shakes his head, as if waving away traitorous thoughts, stepping closer into Raleigh's personal bubble. Close enough where Raleigh has to stop himself from taking in a large breathe of his scent.

 

Mako's footsteps sound off closer now, suddenly quickening with urgency.

 

“This leash that Stacker has you on isn't short enough for the dog that you really are.” Chuck doesn't know, _he somehow doesn't know,_ but that cuts Raleigh deeper than it really should, being compared to a dog. But, that's what he is, at his core, he thinks, hiding with his tail between his legs for five years.

 

Chuck doesn't have any warning when a small fist crashes into his face, sending him sprawling to the floor. Mako stands before him, her expression stony but impassioned, her tiny fist still raised.

 

These two are going to give him a heart attack, he just knows it.

 

“Your concern, Chuck, is appreciated but otherwise unnecessary. Now _apologize_ to Mr. Becket.” He's somewhat amused that Mako calls Chuck by his first name and yet still addresses himself so formally, but then, she probably saw more than she was willing to sign up for in his memories.

 

Chuck looks like he wants to do no such thing, rising to his feet quicker than Raleigh would have given him credit for; it's a stark reminder that as much of a cocky little ass he is, he's still a _Ranger_ , one of the best even, youngest out of the Jaeger Academy and top scoring, to boot. Mako's fist is going to leave a nice, compact bruise on his pretty face, but he just wipes at his face before turning back and glaring at the both of them.

 

For a moment, Raleigh doesn't actually think he'll go through with it and _fight_ Mako, but then he remembers what a ball of rage the younger Hansen is, and realizes that _yes,_ Chuck Hansen will pick a fight with _anything_ and _anyone._

 

He takes a step forward and Mako tenses; Raleigh makes his decision, slipping between them with a speed that makes the both of them blink. He has one hand back on Mako's shoulder, the other fisted in the front of Chuck's jacket, thankfully hiding the claws he still hasn't shifted back. Chuck struggles for a moment, before realizing that he's literally held in place by a stone grip.

 

“Think you're a big man, don't you, _Ra_ leigh. My old man and Stacker, I wonder what they see in you, a has-been who turned tail and turned into a goddamn coward.” Chuck says, lowering his voice, conviction in his eyes. There's something else there, too, a sudden flash that Raleigh almost misses, something more... _feral_ than the humanistic rage Chuck's been displaying all this time.

 

It's as if a bulb has gone off in his skull, realization suddenly hitting him like a freight train.

 

He lets go of Mako's shoulder, and steps closer to Chuck, and their faces are close, as close as they'd been when Raleigh had first scented him in the hangar and thought, _another one, like me._

 

“I wonder, _Hansen_ , what's _really_ under your skin, what _you_ would turn into, if I clawed at it hard enough.” Raleigh speaks, his voice husky, quieter, and god, he can feel Chuck's heart beating in his chest under his hand, can hear the blood rushing in the his veins. The look at Chuck's face is thrown, slightly, like he's not sure how to respond to that vague and esoteric comment.

 

Before Chuck has time to gather his thoughts and respond in proper, though, Herc bursts out of the room, finally brought out by perhaps the _lack_ of yelling, and pulls them apart. It could have been way worse, Raleigh thinks, but the concerned look Herc shoots him feels like tiny needles to his heart, as if he'd been afraid _for_ Chuck.

 

And rightfully so, he supposes; Herc's seen firsthand what a raging Were can do a regular human being, has had to pick up the pieces himself. He doesn't want to have to pick up pieces of his son, and Raleigh can't blame him for that.

 

He's pulled into Stacker's office, Mako ramrod straight next to him; as the metal door shuts behind them, he can still hear Chuck's heartbeat in his head.

 

_You are different, like me._

 

 

 

 

 

He's yet again filled with nervous energy, idling out on the launch pad where him and Herc had originally been dropped off by the chopper. Raleigh doesn't think he can face Mako just yet, his guilt playing like a tattoo upon his heart, suffocating him from the inside. They're officially grounded until further notice, but since _further_ is expected to only last until maybe next week at the very week – the world is still fucking end, after all – he's not terribly optimistic.

 

There's a moment where he's tempted to go find the Kaidanovskys, or even the Wei Tang triplets for a game of basketball, _something,_ to distract him, but he can't chance it, not right now when the next Kaiju account is expected, _scheduled_ (and how fucked up is that, that now they know just when they're probably going to send a jaeger to a watery grave) to occur.

 

It's then that he hears a distinct barking sound down by the rocky shore surrounding the Shatterdome, his head suddenly perking up in surprise. It's not quite the same sound he remembers, but it's similar enough to warrant a thought, a memory from five years ago, from three years. As he stares into the distance, at the city's flashing lights from across the bay, an idea strikes him. Decision made, Raleigh hurries down to where he knows the barking is loudest, a look of grim determination on his face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fuck, walking into the commissary plays out like a bad high school romcom. Mako stares at him from across the mess, before beckoning him over and to another place entirely. Ten minutes later finds them sitting high up on an overhang, overlooking some last minute repairs going on in Gipsy's hangar.

 

“Mako, I'm sorry. I should have warned you of... what you might see.” The apology spills out before he can stop himself, but Mako just shakes her head at it.

 

“You shouldn't be. I spent all this time studying in the simulator, and your moves and strategies, but I never thought... I knew what I was getting into.”

 

“It always seems simpler in theory, doesn't it.”

 

“Much simpler.” She smiles, looking away from him.

 

“I was still connected to my brother, when he was... taken. Since then, I couldn't imagine stepping back into a Jaeger, into someone else's head, not because I was afraid of what they would see... but because I didn't want to put anyone else through that. I felt his fear, his pain, his last thoughts.” It sounds so final, saying it out loud, after holding it in for five years. "His helplessness."

 

Mako looks at him, warmth and empathy in her eyes, because now she doesn't just _know,_ she's _felt_ it, been through it vicariously in the most literal sense. “I know. I saw him, on your... last mission.” He looks at Gipsy, a million moving parts coming together to build a titan, seemingly capable of taking down the gods.

 

Yancy and Raleigh had called her “their girl”, and Raleigh remembers joking with his brother about it, _Gipsy's the only girl I'll ever need._

 

“When I looked at you, in the conn... I saw his last memory, as if I'd been him. That's what threw us out of alignment, and that's all on me. I should have known better.” He stops for a moment, thinking back to that day.

 

“I was supposed to die that day, and I don't mean that in the metaphorical sense. I should have drowned.”

 

Mako frowns at him, probably seeing it as terribly defeatist in nature. “But you piloted her back to shore yourself...”

 

“Not entirely. I technically didn't even make it all the back to shore myself; Gipsy and I fell just short of landfall, and the water was deep enough where we were that the cockpit was flooded almost immediately.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “If I'd just made it 30 or so feet closer...”

 

“Then how...” And suddenly she remembers what she saw, not in the drift but in the dream remnants, “The selkies...” The word leaves her mouth before she can stop it, and Raleigh whips his head to face her again.

 

“You saw that too, huh? Those selkies saved my tail, I tell you. Pulled me out of the conn and dragged me to shore.”

 

Mako doesn't want to correct him, doesn't want to dredge up even more painful memories, but she can't just _leave it,_ it wouldn't be right.

 

“No.” He frowns, “ I didn't see that. I saw... a beach. With a white wolf waiting on it.”

 

It takes him a moment, she can tell, but her heart wrenches in her chest when the frown gives way to surprise, to realization, and then to an old, muted sorrow.

 

“Ah. That. Yeah, that's the same beach I landed on, too. The... Selkies are pretty private, you know.” She doesn't, not really. “That whole thing about only being able to make contact with a human every seven years or being unable to change back into a seal if someone has their pelt isn't true, but I know they like to keep the mystery about themselves because they remain in the water for most of their lives. I've known some to stray onto land and build lives there, they just... they like the mystique of it, I guess. There are less of them now because of the Kaiju Blue, but... they can stand the toxicity, sort of. They don't like it, but they deal, somehow.” He's babbling now, he knows, but Mako, bless her, lets him.

 

“They'd sent me a message, told me that they'd found something of mine. It was two years after Yancy died, and I hadn't shifted back into a human since then. There'd been a Kaiju attack not far from where I'd been, and the city attacked had basically fallen into the sea.” He's wringing his hands now, as if he can scrub the invisible blood off of them with his claws.

 

“My sister.” He breathes a deep sigh, and he sits up straighter, now, eyes focused on the chest plate that covers Gipsy's heart. He hasn't said these words out loud in over five years, hasn't said her name in six.

 

“She'd been helping out with the relief efforts, maybe; I'd only seen her four times since Yancy had died, and each time she'd come to try and convince me to come home. I don't know what happened, but the selkies had found her in the water, maybe sniffed her out even, and brought her back to me.” _Her body,_ he doesn't say. “I didn't even know she'd been missing.” He says breathlessly, as if he can't believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

 

He wipes his hands across his face, trying to collect himself. The empathy in Mako's eyes is so earnest, because he, too, knows of her own demons. He knows that when Stacker found her in Tokyo, it had been her first time in the city, separated from her father.

 

“ _There are no monsters, I promise. I'll come get you soon.”_

 

“Sorry, I just... I haven't talked about this ever.” He laughs, a pained sound almost. He'd had time, somewhat, to mourn Yancy with others. His mother and sister had come to him, found him in the woods, and they'd all mourned together, pack smaller than ever. Jazmine, though... He'd only faced his mother long enough to leave Jaz's body with her, before disappearing again. He didn't she'd forgive him after that, but he just,  _he couldn't stay._ There had been no words to share between them, not then, and he's not even sure what he'd say to her now, if she knew he was back here, piloting a relic from a bygone age.

 

Thanks to the selkies, at least, his mother had two bodies to bury instead of empty coffins. He wonders sometimes, his mind in a dark place, if it should have been three instead.

 

“I imagine you haven't done much talking in the past five years, Raleigh.” The way she says it is affectionate, fond, and Raleigh thinks, _no, I haven't really done much in five years, have I?_ It's not even like he _could_ have talked about any of it, his only companions a lonely home and, sometimes when he was feeling maudlin, the empty shell of the Icebox.

 

“I...” He looks at her suddenly, questioningly. “Would you mind if I...” He's hesitant to ask, because people don't always like it, don't always welcome what is decidedly _abnormal_ in some spaces. Mako, though, seems to know exactly what he's asking, and just smiles.

 

“Do whatever you need to do. I'm right here.” There's a moment of silence between the two of them, their food forgotten, before Raleigh slowly rises to his feet and steps off down the hallway, turning down a random corner out of sight. For a second Mako thinks she's misunderstood, before there's a shift in sound, Raleigh's booted footsteps halting before a different sound replaces them.

 

Moments later, the same giant wolf that she'd been introduced to on the helipad reappears, claws clacking on the burnished steel floor as he trots towards hers. His tongue lolls out, seemingly more composed now. He's more comfortable as a wolf than he ever was a human, she realizes.

 

He drops down next to her, close enough where she can feel his fur tickling her arm, and she has to stop herself from reaching and running her hands through it, because despite being a predator with big, sharp teeth the size of a horse he just looks so _warm_ and _cuddly._

 

“You look like Moro. Much happier though.” She says before she can stop herself, and at his questioning look, accompanied by what is quite frankly an adorable head tilt, her face heats up and she can't stop the blush from flooding her cheeks. She turns her head away with her face hidden in her hands, suddenly very embarrassed and very glad Chuck isn't here to poke fun at her, because he _would_ understand that reference, considering that she'd forced him to sit down and watch that movie with her when they'd been children, neither able to communicate very well with the other.

 

He makes a low sound in his throat that sounds like it may be a laugh, she's not sure, but suddenly she's surrounded by silky soft fur, a surprised sound escaping her as he cuddles up next to her. He's not plushie soft everywhere, though, the thicker winter undercoat slightly prickly under her fingers, but she finds herself not quite caring.

 

She feels like she should be more worried for the future, for what's coming tomorrow, and the next day, and if there will even _be_ a day after that, but sitting here, nestled into his shoulder while the two of them gaze up at Gipsy's heart, she finds herself more content than she's been in a long time.

 

The pleased crooning sound he makes when she idly reaches up and scratches behind his ears tells her that, in this moment, he's just as happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slowly realizing that while Yancy _had_ to die for the sake of the story, this is going to end up as a shameless fix-it fic in the end. _So not sorry._
> 
> Also, I totally couldn't help myself with the Princess Mononoke reference.
> 
> Once again, come visit me on tumblr [here](http://happyasaghost.tumblr.com/) so we can talk about how much this movie kills my heart.
> 
> p.s. comments keep me young and virile! [/i'm so transparent]


	5. The time it took for the lights to go out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was pretty stressed out these past few days, so this chapter came as super difficult to write. You'll probably be able to tell with how awkward it is, all 6600 words of it ;__;
> 
> This is where the stretching of the time frame gets rather obvious, because if I remember correctly, Otachi and Leatherback attack at night, and the _next morning_ they go down into the Breach. Which is kind of messed up, but whatever, _fanfiction_.

 

It doesn't last, however, their calm interrupted by the klaxons sounding a Kaiju attack.

 

Everyone watches in muted horror as Typhoon's Conn-pod is torn right off it's body, and thrown into the roiling sea. Raleigh watches Cherno's one remain arm reach out towards the sky, a final, desperate gesture born from the pilots last thoughts, before Leatherback's claws suddenly _twist,_ and the resulting explosion knocks out the Jaeger's comms.

 

It's when the following EMP blast takes out _all_ of the comms that Stacker turns to them, his face a stone mask, and Raleigh knows that they're up to the plate. They're all that's left right now, with the PPDC down two ( _maybe three, please don't let it become three)_ Jaegers. He sees Striker out there on the water, a silent, empty shell, and thinks, nearly beside himself with subdued panic, _god, please, don't let them die._

 

He's perhaps more fond of Herc than he'll ever admit to the older man's face, one of the last remnants of Raleigh's old life that is still around, still _living._ He also decides that it would be a pity for Chuck to go and die before Raleigh can figure him out, piece him together like a puzzle with the edges burnt. He's possibly being more cynical than usual, but then, he's already lost so much, it seems unfair in comparison that the rest of world has already lost two of it's best Jaegers today. Maybe it's lost two of it's best teams as well, but he doesn't, _can't,_ know that just yet.

 

As they get ready to suit up, he's not optimistic, but part of him hopes that the favor he calls in will come through.

 

After all, even if none of them survive, their bodies don't deserve to rot at the bottom of Hong Kong's harbor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later, after they seemingly defy death after falling from the sky, Raleigh can't find it in himself to celebrate just yet, staring at Stacker's back as he splashes water on his face.

 

“Is there anything that can be done?” It's not really the right question because he knows the answer, and he's not – exactly – the same stupid kid he once was, back in Anchorage, but right now Raleigh's grasping for straws, unsure of what to say and what to do. Stacker turns and looks at him, a softness in his eyes Raleigh hasn't seen directed at himself in years, noting slivers of it when he's talking to Mako.

 

“You remember, Mr. Becket, the first time we met, don't you? Your brother and you, scrappy little pups you were, both looked straight at me, like you could see inside me and could tell how I worked, how my parts came together to form a man.” It sounds incredibly lachrymose, the way Stacker puts it, the finality of the statement gripping at his very moral fiber.

 

“You know the score. You know how this happens. How it ends.”

 

Raleigh knows, maybe better than most, and he remembers what the Marshall is recalling; meeting Stacker Pentecost for the first time, and smelling the dull scent of sickness from around him. It had been difficult to reconcile at first, this strong, indomitable man, refusing to be taken down by the cancer that had struck down his co-pilot and many others before them.

 

Raleigh had met Tamsin Sevier, once, years and years ago at the Jaeger academy; he'd been a bratty little upstart and she'd put him in his place rather quickly, and even with his werewolf strength and speed she'd managed to lay him flat on his back in the combat room at the Icebox through pure skill rather than brute force. He'd sensed it then, but hadn't really had the experience or knowledge to really identify it at the time; it wasn't until Sevier had long since left the PPDC and he'd been under Pentecost's command for a week for him to actually understand it. Not until him and Yancy had shared a look during briefing, had really _looked_ at the Marshall and known, in that moment, what the dark cloud surrounding him had been.

 

He wonders for a moment, his mind wandering, where Tamsin Sevier is now. Dead, probably.

 

“Them Mark I's, they weren't exactly built for the longevity of the pilot, as you know.” And he does; he remembers reading up on Brawler Yukon's disastrous first test run, the pilot completely overwhelmed by the neural load and having a seizure during it, has seen the footage. That seemed so far away now, so obviously detrimental, a harsh lesson from a long time ago, but this...

 

“We weren't exactly expecting to survive, not then. Not when we didn't even know if the Jaegers would be enough.”

 

“How much... time do you have left? Does anyone else know?”

 

“Mako. Hercules. Chuck suspects, I imagine; he's always been a bit of a tosser, that one,” Raleigh snorts at _a bit_ , “But he's always been smarter than he looks. Had to be, to graduate from the academy at 15.” The offhanded praise is somewhat surprising to hear, but then, the Marshall's known Herc as long as Raleigh has, probably longer, and he'd have to have been there as Chuck grew up in Shatterdomes around the world, surrounded on all sides by towering giants.

 

“They'd told me if I'd ever stepped foot into a Jaeger again, that the toll would be great. I wouldn't be stepping out of it again, not on my own two feet.” Stacker turns away, looking at the mirror above the sink away. Contemplating his mortality, maybe.

 

God, Raleigh recalls the night he'd realized what had been wrong with the Marshall's scent, that Herc had called and he'd realized that the older man had piloted a Jaeger from each generation, fear suddenly taking root in his heart. He remembers the stupid elation he'd felt when they'd finally met face to face, that Herc didn't carry the same slowly decaying scent that Stacker dragged around with him.

 

Small mercies; as much as Herc is a stark reminder to his mother of what she's lost, he's just as much a reminder to Raleigh of what's left. Of who's left fighting.

 

“As for time, Mr. Becket... Well, it's not like we have much of that left regardless. I'll be here for the end of the world. You can count on that.” Stacker's expression is solid, unyielding; the softness is gone from his eyes, and replacing it is the cold determination Raleigh's always known.

 

But now, he thinks, resolve suddenly restored, he's got a harbor to listen to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Raleigh's out on the helipad, taking a moment to himself while everyone bustles back to work below in the hangar, prepping the remaining Jaegers for what will likely be their final drop. The cacophony of cheers and applauses they get in the main hall are still ringing in his ears, and he's surprised that all the sounds didn't completely overwhelm him at the time.

 

“Feeling okay there, Rals? S'not usually like you to loiter around in places like this. You just took down two category IV's; you deserve a nap, at the very least.” Tendo's always been one to hem and haw over him after drops, and part of him, while a teeny bit annoyed, takes solace in the mother-henning.

 

“I'm waiting on a call, Tendo.”

 

“Out here?” He's sure he must look like a goddamn loony, but Tendo had grown used to his antics back at the Icebox when it had always been the three of them; him and Yancy would always be giving him shit, and Tendo could sling it back with the best of them. Of course, it's been five years, and they're down one third of the group they used to be. People adapt. Animals evolve to survive. He's not the same person he was five years ago, but then, some parts of him have never really changed. Tendo's raised brow could also be further explained by the fact that Raleigh doesn't even have a fucking cell phone.

 

“Not that kind of call, man.”

 

It takes a little while, the two of them standing in a familiar companionable silence, before he hears barking from out in the distance, the signal they'd all planned on. He listens intently, his ears lightly twitching. He doesn't have the same sense of hearing as a human as he does as a wolf, but it's still good enough for what he's listening for.

 

“Didn't know there were seals in this harbor.” Tendo thinks aloud next to him, a bemused look on his face as he sees several heads bobbing in the waves, but Raleigh just shakes his head, smiling. The message is clear; urgent, but much better than he'd hoped.

 

“They're not seals.”

 

And they've brought good news.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Wei Tangs are much worse off than the Russians, at least in the long run, partially because they don't have the ridiculous metabolic healing factor that the Kaidanovskys have. Jin's missing his right leg below the knee and a chunk flesh on his upper thigh, Hu's permanently blind in one eye with a rather wicked burn that stretches from below what's left of his right ear down to his shoulder and back, and Cheung's left arm is chalked up as a total loss, leaving him with a stump above the elbow. Those are just the more permanent injuries, too, their bodies riddled with burns and broken or fractured bones here and there.

 

He's not sure how they survived the conn-pod crumpling like aluminum around them, but he's impressed by their tenacity, even while unconscious. Raleigh doesn't doubt that they'll somehow be back to playing basketball and harassing the rest of the Shatterdome before the year is up, if they all survive what's coming next.

 

The Russians, by contrast, have sustained far more dire injuries, but by the simple virtue of being Weres, are steadily healing, if not at a stunted rate for their kind. They'd garnered more burns from the explosion; the fingers Sasha lost have already regenerated, the same to be said for Aleksis' shattered ribs, but they're both still in heavy comas, slowly, so slowly healing. But they _are_ healing, which is a good sign.

 

Quite frankly, they're all a fucking mess, but more importantly, _they're alive._

 

It had been quite some work for the selkies, apparently, one of the younger ones had chattered at him in quick, sharp words. They weren't as strong, pound for pound, as wolves or bears were, and their flippers were not terribly conducive to trying to pull the pilots out of the squashed remains of each Jaeger, but they'd done it.

 

The deafening roar of applause and earnestly euphoric cheers from the Russian and Chinese pit crews were a small comfort during the bizarre wait out they were having while Striker and Gipsy were in for repairs. Tendo, the saint, had made sure that at least one of the hangar bay doors had been left open so the selkies could hear the thanks from the tech crews. They deserved to know how much they'd done, what it meant to the Shatterdome, even if in the selkies eyes they were just fishing bodies out of the harbor.

 

He'd initially been surprised when they hadn't asked for payment in return. It had been that way from the start, when they'd dragged him half dead out of Gipsy's cockpit, and later returning both Yancy and Jaz's broken bodies to him. The sea-matron of the small colony that had originally fished him out of the freezing ocean had been kind, and impossibly sentimental, he thought.

 

“ _You are keeping us safe, protecting our seas. This is the least we can do for you.”_

 

He's finally escaped from the midst of the clamor in the hangar, and is hiding away in the doorway attached to his room. He wants to go find Mako and hug her and lick her face and feel her hands running through his fur, and just _sit with her_ for a bit before the world ends, but she's with the Marshall for the moment, promising to find him later. He doubts Herc would be as willing to sit and cuddle with him right now either, the older man forever inept at really showing proper affection. He should probably sequester himself in his room and attempt some semblance of rest, but the heady scent of Chuck Hansen drifts down the hall and Raleigh finds himself taking some bizarre comfort in it, that he's not alone in his weirdness ( _normalcy_ ).

 

Of course, the real shocker is when Chuck himself actually walks down the hall, striding up to him hesitantly, looking like he wants to say something possibly rude and abrasive which is too bad because Raleigh _really_ doesn't feel like punching him right now. Chuck, curiously, stops, which he finds internally quite hilarious because since when has _Chuck_ cared if he's not feeling great? It's not that he's physically tired (which, okay, he totally is), but he's so _drained_ right now, from drifting again, to not having slept a full night since he got here. He wants to sink to the floor on four legs, fall apart a little and just... exist. For however long he's got left.

 

There must be something telling on his face, because all Chuck does is stand there for a moment, maybe actually speechless for the first time in his life. There's a grudging respect there now, just a little, but it's a start. Raleigh just lets his skull thump against the hard wall, eyes shuttering closed. Of course, it's then that Chuck finally speaks, voice quieter and more subdued than Raleigh's ever heard out of him.

 

“What was it you told those seal friends of yours?” He doesn't ask how Chuck knows about him talking to the selkies, because they all saw them dragging the two jaeger teams through the water before the med-teams reached them. He can tell, from how the other pilot speaks, that he's not actually that interested in Raleigh's answer.

 

He doesn't know that while Chuck is a right little asshole, and kind of a huge dick at the best of times, the Wei Tangs are friendly (just barely) with him because he slings back pranks and insults without missing a beat, and that the Russians are just more than a little fond of him, this child who smells like a Were but is so painfully human most of the time. Raleigh doesn't know that, however, just chalks it up to Chuck being weirdly concerned, but then, he's known these pilots longer than the werewolf has, has probably fought with them and been privy to moments in their lives, a right that Raleigh gave up the second he stepped into the snow with his bare feet turning to paws as he ran.

 

It reminds him of Herc, a little, and he cracks open his eyes, lashes fluttering as he quirks the smallest of smiles Chuck's way. Kid probably wouldn't like to hear that, he thinks; he'd likely have a tantrum at the very thought of anyone comparing him to his old man.

 

“Just that they should watch out for us in the harbor. We can't swim nearly as well as they can, after all.” The kid just nods, and they stand in a somewhat companionable (well, for Chuck) if not slightly awkward silence before Chuck breaches the quiet with more words.

 

“I came to... to apologize.” He sounds like it's _physically painful_ to even fucking say that, but Raleigh will chalk it up as a win for now.

 

“Careful, don't strain yourself with all that compassion there.” He gets a scowl in return for his cheeky smile, but drops his head down. “What brought this on, though? No offense,” totally gonna be offensive, “But you don't exactly strike me as the kind of guy who'll take back fighting words like that.” Chuck shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking away from him for a moment.

 

“Mako promised she'd make sure I'd have a nice matching set of bruises before the last drop if I didn't at least talk to you.” There has to be more to than that, but Raleigh does actually chuckle at this, before pushing off from the wall and opening the door to his closet sized room. Everything in the Shatterdome, despite being so exceedingly _huge,_ seems so simultaneously small and compact. He knows the reasoning behind it, obviously, but goddamnit, he misses Alaska. He misses wide open spaces where he can stretch his legs and run as far as they'd be able to take him.

 

He misses Jaz, and he misses Yancy, and he misses dad ruffling his hair and being way too patient with him, and he misses the way mom would cuddle with him, Yancy, and Jaz when they were pups. His legs suddenly feel weak, perhaps too caught up in his memories, his hand shooting out and grabbing the end of the doorframe to steady himself as he tries to even out his breathing. Fuck. Let's just look like an utter hot mess in front of Daddy Issues over there.

 

“You alright there, mate? Didn't smack your head too hard, did you?” It's funny, because that almost sounds like actual, honest to god _concern_ in Chuck's voice. It's probably nothing, but he knows that all the stress is catching up to him, that he spent five years running away in a body allowed him to push it all back. Talking with Mako, sitting with her pressed into his furry body, that had helped, and he suddenly yearns for that again, but the only person around is Chuck.

 

Chuck, who's _right there_. He raises his head, turning to meet the younger man's gaze, a question brimming on his lips.

 

“You got anywhere to be for a while?” It's a long shot, but he figures he might as well extend this olive branch while he still has the chance. The somewhat flustered look he gets in return, along with the nervous head scratching, is answer enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A little while later finds them seated on Raleigh's tiny bed, legs hanging off the edge as they chatter on about random, mundane things, partially slumped against the wall behind them. They're not spilling personal secrets or anything, rather, just some poor attempts at small talk to pass the time. Max had wandered in at some point, looking for his human, and he's a nice little barrier of wrinkly bulldog between the two of them. Not close enough to touch, but close enough where Raleigh can breathe deeply and take comfort in the familiar scent of whatever the fuck Chuck Hansen actually is. There had been more than a few moments where Chuck had gotten huffy and nearly stomped off, but he'd managed to rein in his assholish nature well enough. He wasn't so bad when he wasn't slinging insults your way, sort of.

 

Still, there's an underlying level of _this is weird,_ but Raleigh ignores it.

 

“So how is it that you actually know my old man? Known him for years, yeah?” It's nice, he thinks, to be able to just sit here and let his thoughts wander, his fingers mindlessly running over Max's short fur; it's nothing like his own, or how Yancy and Jaz's had been, but Max pants happily, his tongue sticking out and his squashed little face a picture of pure bliss. They'd never had dogs, partially because it just seemed redundant and also because they were _wolves,_ they played too rough with each other, who knows what they would have done to a _dog._

 

“He knew my dad. I met him when I was five.” Raleigh answers, not paying too much attention, but he can sense how far away Chuck sounds, as if he's unused to just making simple small talk. Kid probably hasn't spoken to anyone without the clear intent of antagonizing them in years.

 

“Military?” How else would a young, hotshot RAAF pilot in his early twenties end up meeting an Anchorage born father of three?

 

“Naw, I never actually knew what my dad did, not really. Never got the chance to ask; he died twenty years ago. I just knew it had something to do with Human and Were relations.” He sucks in a breath after he says it, almost matter of fact-like, because, yeah, it has been twenty years, hasn't it. He doesn't even remember his father all that well, but mom always kept reminders around, like she refused to let them forget who he was and what he'd done for them.

 

He can say it, though. It's not an open wound anymore, raw and vulnerable, not like how it is with Yancy, with Jazmine. Chuck is quiet, deliberating on something before he speaks again.

 

“My mum, she was a Were.” That's an admission that Raleigh thought he'd have to wrestle out of him, but it comes easy, like ripping off a bandaid. Ten years of not talking about it, about sharing a mind with his father, whom he can't even _speak_ to without getting pissed off.

 

“I know. I can smell it on you.” He shoots him a look from the corner of his eyes, a wry grin on his lips, wondering, _do you get it now, you big dumb idiot?_ There is a moment where Chuck spins his head to look at him, a confused but calculating look in his eye as he looks, really _looks_ at him, while Raleigh likes watching the array of emotions shuffle over his face. Confusion gives way to scrutiny, which gives way to a slowly blooming realization tinged with growing horror. The kid's so transparent it's hilarious.

 

The punch he gets is not entirely unexpected, because, okay, maybe he deserves it a _little,_ but god, he can't stop _laughing_ at Chuck's sputtered “ _THAT WAS YOU?!”,_ and he's sure it can be heard echoing down the halls. Between them, Max barks excitedly, which only intensifies Raleigh's laughter because Chuck's face is bright ass tomato red right now.

 

He's _still_ laughing, wiping tiny tears from his eyes, as Chuck rages on, still shoving at him “What is _wrong_ with you, _my dad was right there,_ you bloody stuffed animal. Do you get your jollies off by cup-checking random blokes you've never met before? Wait, don't answer that, you probably do!”

 

By the time Raleigh's caught his breath, laughter finally subsided, Chuck is a smoldering little ball of anger next to him, but even he's beginning to cool off as well. He harrumphs, looking for all the world like the petulant little kit that the old man used to send him pictures of every now and then, and Raleigh suddenly and irrevocably finds himself incredibly fond of Herc's bratty little pup.

 

“I can see why Mako was so insistent on me apologizing now.” Chuck grouses, suddenly, and it takes him a moment to realize what he means.

 

“You weren't too wrong, not really.” That's why it cut deep enough, he thinks, biting his bottom lip lightly.

 

“I did run away. Left all I had in a duffle bag with Tendo, walked out into the snow, and never looked back. When Herc came and found me, that'd been the first time I'd had real human contact in over five years.” Every time Jaz had shown up, it had been as a wolf, because he'd been a fucking _coward_ and hid in the woods where she'd have no hope of finding him on two legs. Mom had always shifted during the precious few times he'd shown up to her place, bar one time that hurt his heart to think about.

 

Chuck looks at him like he wants to say something, but he continues; now that he's said it, he might as well go on with the rest. “When I came to the mess hall that first day, that was the first time I'd spoken in five years and four months. Also the first time in as long that I'd been on two legs.” There's a range of emotions fluttering over Chuck's face, finally ending with his brows furrowed, realizing the implications of his words.

 

“You were in a shift for _five years?”_ He sounds so incredulous, as if, _what are you, completely bonkers?_ It's rare for Weres to stay in one form without shifting, but five years is like a death sentence for the human half. Five years _alone,_ nonetheless.

 

“My mind as a wolf... I was born and raised one, and it's not like I think differently or anything when I shift, but it's like... I couldn't stop hearing him, my brother; we were still connected through the drift, when he died. For whatever reason, I could handle it better as a wolf; I was able to consolidate it better, not go completely nuts. It's easier, you know, to deal with it that way.” He goes back to kneading the soft wrinkly skin behind Max's ears.

 

“I wouldn't. Not about that.” At first Raleigh thinks Chuck is being contrary, in a _I'm not a coward like you_ sort of way, before it hits him that, of course, _his mother was a Were, but he's not._

 

“Did... Did you ever wish you had been? Like her?” He questions, softly.

 

“What, you offering? Thought it didn't work like that, mate.” Chuck gives him a shit eating grin, but it's not the same smug look that he's been getting since they met. This is more playful, less aggravating, and Raleigh finds that he likes it maybe a little too much.

 

“Not like _that.”_ It's true, though. Despite old popular belief, one couldn't just _become_ a Were through a bite or a scratch; it went far deeper than that. There had to be shifter ancestry _somewhere_ in the blood for the transformation to work, and even then, they had to at least be the same species. It was more trouble than most people were willing to go at lengths for, and it probably explained why they were so rare nowadays.

 

Still, Raleigh hadn't been joking when he'd said that he'd wondered what the younger Hansen would turn into if he'd just _clawed_ at it hard enough.

 

“No, no, I get you, just taking the piss there, you geriatric canine.” There's no heat in his words, though; he sighs, eyes faraway. “Sometimes... Yeah, I'd wished I'd been like her, not like my old man. I wanted to be able to go out and run with her, on those nights where she was feeling restless and constrained. I wanted to be free, like her.” He sounds so wistful that it's painful, like a small serrated knife to Raleigh's heart. He can't imagine what he'd have done if he were in the same situation, a pup... _child_ watching his mother run off into the woods, and being unable to join her.

 

“Too bad we can't drift; you'd be able to see it through my eyes. It's not the same as running through the Australian outback, I imagine, but there's nothing quite like running through Denali, going up through the snow on Mount McKinley.” He'd been to Denali several times, with his family. It had been like an annual camping trip of sorts, the only thing they'd bring being themselves. There had even been times where they'd ventured even further, into the Northwoods. It had stopped with the advent of the Kaiju, but Raleigh still looks back on it fondly.

 

Chuck just elbows his side, a dismissive gesture. “No time to dally over what could have been while the world's ending, Becket. We've got maybe a day until the repairs on Striker and Gipsy are complete, and then we're hitting the Breach with all we've got.” Right, Operation Pitfall.

 

Fuck. This is literally a suicide mission.

 

“I'm sure we'll do fine, especially if you cheer us on like you did out in the bay.” His attempt at lightening the mood is successful, sort of; Chuck's expression scrunches up, his cheeks bright scarlet, but all he does aside from shove at his shoulder again is bite out an ineffectual “Shut up”.

 

They settle back into a comfortable silence after that, Max idly licking Raleigh's fingers as Chuck speaks, his voice quiet and his eyes focused on something across the room. “Can't go down there with too many regrets, you know.”

 

And Raleigh, Raleigh _knows._ He's tempted to turn to Chuck and do something possibly both very stupid and life threatening, but he stops himself, and thinks about everything else he's ever done.

 

So many regrets, so many moments to look back on. Where does he even start pulling those apart, right here and right now?

 

Instead, Raleigh's gaze follows where Chuck's is aimed at, and his eyes fall upon the few photos he'd tacked on to the wall, in a poor attempt to make the tiny crawlspace he called a room more homely. There's a photo of him and Yancy, right when they'd made the program, painfully young and naïve; another of the two of them and Jaz, even younger, curled up asleep on the couch. There's even one he's not entirely sure as to why he put up, a photo of him as a literal puppy, snow white fur grown out, held in his mother's arms. He looks like a goddamn pompom with all the fur, but it's a teeth-rottingly cute picture. Embarrassing baby photo, yes, but his mother looks so _happy_ in it that it doesn't bother him.

 

He hasn't seen her smile like that in years.

 

“Hey,” He rises from his seat, and Max whines at the loss of a warm body and someone petting him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You got a phone on you?” Chuck frowns, but digs a sturdy looking cell phone out of his pocket, tossing it over to him. He examines it for a moment, ignoring Chuck's snarky “You need help turning it on?”, and walks over to the wall of photos, eyes mentally cataloging everything he sees.

 

“Oi, Becket, you need me to leave, or...” Evidently, Chuck is not above giving him some privacy for this call, but he waves him off.

 

“Naw, don't worry about it.” He starts dialing a number from memory before he loses his nerve, eternally glad for international cell phones, something that's practically mandatory for any Jaeger pilot to have. He waits on the dial tone, his fist tense, trying not to show just how _nervous_ he is, before someone picks up on the end. Thankfully, while it's late in Hong Kong, it's closer to afternoon in Alaska.

 

“ _Yes...?”_ A woman answers, her voice sounding tinny over the speaker, but he would recognize it anywhere.

 

“Ah. Hello?” God, wow, he definitely can't hide how nervous he feels.

 

“ _Hello. Who is this?”_ There's a note of suspicion wound into the question, and he just swallows down the lump in his throat, steeling himself before he decides it's not worth it and hangs up the call.

 

“ It's... It's Raleigh, mom.” There's a sound of surprise from the other end, and silence for a few moments, before she responds.

 

“ _Ra... Raleigh? What's going on? You shifted back?”_ There's a sudden tone of uncertainty in her voice, _“Raleigh, where are you?”_

 

“That's... that's not important right now. I just wanted to talk.”

 

“ _...After all that, you want to talk now?”_

 

“I...” Fuck, he should have thought this through more. Behind him, he can hear Chuck shifting on the bed, trying not to listen in.

 

“I just want to tell you that I'm sorry. It... I know that doesn't really mean anything. I just... I wanted to hear the sound of your voice again.”

 

“ _Raleigh...”_

 

“I just...”

 

“ _Raleigh, I can hear you, but I cannot see you. I can hear the sadness in your voice. What's going on?”_ She sounds so _worried,_ and part of him wishes he hadn't called, but he thinks, _no, I have to let her know._

 

He grapples in his head for something, anything, before blurting out “I was the one that tore up the garden that you planted when we were kids, not Jaz.” He can hear Chuck stifling a laugh in the back. Over the phone, his mom suddenly laughs, a soft, worn sound he hasn't heard in so long. He used to be so good at bullshitting his mom, but now, after five years... what does he have to say?

 

“ _I know. I always knew. You were the worst at lying.”_ She leaves it at that, a soft sigh coming through the speaker. He stares at the wall, at the photos, completely at a loss of what to say now.

 

“ _Raleigh...”_ She speaks gently, and he remembers being five and being held in her arms, _“Does this have anything to do with what happened on the news?”_ He's not sure how she knows, because as far as she'd known he'd still been in Anchorage, alone in the woods. Evidently she'd been paying more attention to the news recently; she'd always been against him and Yancy joining the Jaeger academy, but she'd always kept up with all their fights and kept track of where they'd been.

 

“ _Are you in Hong Kong right now?”_ She asks, almost a whisper. It doesn't matter, because his silence is answer enough, the sharp intake of breath he hears from the other end causing him to grip the phone tighter. There are a few more moments of tense silence, neither sure of what to say to the other.

 

“ _I guess there's nothing to be done about that now, is there?”_ She sounds so resigned, so tired, and Raleigh wishes he was there, standing face to face with her so she could say this to a warm body rather than the third coffin she might be getting soon.

 

“Haven't you heard? The world might be ending.” He smiles humorlessly, even though she can't see it. “...I didn't want to have the last real conversation I ever had with you be a shouting match.” He admits quietly. There's a sound over the phone, and he's not sure what it is, but he has a feeling she's trying to hold back tears now. It takes her a moment to collect herself, and he can imagine her desperately wiping away the tears falling down her face.

 

“ _I'm going to tell you what I told you four years ago; you are so good, despite what you've always thought of yourself. Be good, be strong, stay alive. I love you, no matter what happens. You are my son, and that will never change. If things were different...”_ A choked sob escapes her, and he wishes, more than ever, that the Kaiju weren't real, that it hadn't been necessary to build giant mechanical monstrosities to battle them, that so many people didn't have to have _died_ for this moment. That none of this ever fucking happened.

 

He wishes with all his heart that his dad was still there with her, that Jazmine was alive and at college, that Yancy was still asleep in the top bunk.

 

But that's not going to happen, he muses, forlorn.

 

“I know, mom, I'm like you, remember? You taught me that it's okay to be different... I love you. Goodbye.” He can still hear her crying in his head as he hangs up, not giving her the chance to respond. He just stands there, silent, her sobs echoing in his head, staring at this wall of memories. Almost everyone on it is dead.

 

_You are my son and I love you, and that will never change._

 

 

 

 

 

It's a completely awful thing to do, and he feels like the biggest asshole on the face of planet for doing it; instead of shattering the phone in his fist like wants to, he just tosses it back an impassive Chuck.

 

Fuck. _Fuck._ He doesn't want to be in his own skin right now, he thinks as he rips off his sweater, ignoring Chuck's surprised yelp in the background as he does so. He shifts so fast that he's surprised he didn't destroy the pants he hadn't shucked off yet.

 

Now on four legs, he turns around and looks at Chuck, who's just staring at him like he's grown another head. He probably _should_ have sent him away, but there's nothing to be done about that now.

 

There's almost a minute of awkward silence between them, before Chuck nervously scratches the back of his head, thinking of something to say. He then pats the mattress, motioning him over.

 

“Alright, get over here you oversized furball.” Raleigh doesn't move at first, not sure of what exactly he's really asking, but Chuck makes an impatient sound and hooks his finger in a _so help me if you don't get your ass right over here this instant_ way _._ Probably something he learned from Herc, he thinks, slightly amused as he trots over.

 

He just sort of gazes impudently at Chuck for a bit, because there's no way they're going to both fit on the tiny single bed he's been given. Chuck rolls his eyes dramatically, before standing up, dislodging Max as he does, and slotting himself into the space next to Raleigh's shoulder, pushing down on him in an attempt to get him to lay on the floor. Raleigh sits, but only after making a little show of it, ending with Chuck getting swatted in the face by his overly fluffy tail as he does.

 

“I'll get you for that later, mark my words.” He promises, before moving closer to Raleigh's face and scratching him lightly behind the ears. Chuck seems to have experience with this, because unlike Mako, who managed to eventually scratch him right where he liked it best after a few tries, Chuck gets it in the _best spot_ right away. He makes a pleased sound, and is slightly (but only slightly) embarrassed at how fast his tail starts wagging.

 

“My dad would do this for my mum, whenever she was upset and not in the mood to go running. I remember sitting with her on those rare cold days we'd get and just petting her fur, or taking a nap with her. Sometimes I would think it was a little insulting, treating her like a dog or something like that, but she never cared. Dunno if you'd like it that much, but you seem to be doing okay.” Chuck sounds nostalgic, sliding his hand down the length of Raleigh's back before moving back up to behind his ears.

 

It's nice, though, nicer than Raleigh would have thought. The tips of Chuck's own ears are red, which quite frankly, Raleigh finds way more adorable than it should be. He turns his head and licks a long strip up the side of Chuck's face, with less slobber than the first time they'd met. Chuck just pushes his snout away, grimacing at him with no real malice behind it.

 

“I _know_ you're not a dog, but could you at least make an effort to not act like such a _puppy?_ You're worse than Max was when I'd first got him. _”_ He complains, but again, there's no real heat or enmity behind it; instead, Raleigh would almost say there's a note of _fondness_ in his voice, but that can't possibly true. Chuck Hansen doesn't like anything except his dog and Striker, so Raleigh doubts he's been added to the list of things Chuck Doesn't Hate Horribly.

 

Still. This is nice. He croons loudly, shuffling closer to Chuck and softly bumping his head into the other man's shoulder, which gets him a wry look in return. He knows now what the scent is, why he indulges so much in the other man's presence, and part of him whimpers at the thought he might lose this in two day's time. For now, though, he'll take what he can get.

 

Chuck Hansen smells like _home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended the last chapter with Mako and Raleigh cuddles, it seems only fair I end this one with Chuck and Raleigh cuddles.
> 
> Come tumble with me [here](http://happyasaghost.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Thus passes the glory of the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally lied; there's a still a fair bit of angst this chapter but the _feels_ , I couldn't help myself.
> 
> Despite that, this is also where the pure fluff starts and this fic becomes the most shameless, self-indulgent fix-it _ever._
> 
> (as I write this, I can't stop screaming at myself over how silly this entire fanfic really is)

They win.

 

He's not entirely sure _how,_ freak chance or act of a wandering god that's taken pity upon them, but _they win._ Him and Mako are pulled into a chopper that rockets off back to the Shatterdome, but he can't help but gaze unerringly at the ocean below them. He wants to shout, to howl out into the sea below them, to rejoice in their victory and crow in the faces of the aliens on the other side of the breach, _WE BEAT YOU._

 

But he can't find it in himself to fully give in to celebrating right now.

 

Him and Mako share a look between them, the energy of _winning_ and _living_ suddenly taken out from under them, now that they consider what they've lost.

 

All of the Jaegers are destroyed. Countless cities are still piles of rubble, the more frequent Kaiju attacks making reconstruction efforts difficult. The death toll is literally _in the millions._ Gipsy is lost. Striker is lost.

 

Striker's pilots, lost.

 

The selkies can no longer help them; what can they do when there's nothing left after a blast like that? He wouldn't have let them near, regardless. Weres were resistant to nuclear radiation to an extent, but they couldn't survive the detonation of Striker's payload.

 

The part of Raleigh that is human wonders how he's going to face Herc after this, and the part of him that is more wolf howls somberly. The sum of his parts, man and wolf, form one creature, one person, coming together to mourn.

 

_Where will I go now, when my home has been taken from me?_

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a moment, before they all dive down into the breach, before they walk to their certain doom, that Raleigh crosses by Herc in the hall before he goes to see off ( _say goodbye to)_ his son. Guiltily, he can't say it's a total chance coincidence, and judging by the look on the older man's face, he apparently doesn't believe so either. By their feet, Max whimpers, and Raleigh shoots the dog an empathetic look.

 

_I know how you feel, buddy._

 

“I don't really have to tell you how I'm feeling right now, do I?” Herc swallows, wiping his good hand over his face, an echo of the gesture he'd made when he'd first come and found Raleigh. “Tell me, what do you smell with that nose of yours?”

 

Raleigh doesn't answer, not at first.

 

“Sorrow.” _You believe you're sending your son to his death._ “Regret.” _For all those things you were afraid you never got to say to him._ “You're afraid.” _You don't want to lose him, like how you lost his mother and your wife._ “But you're proud of him, too.” _You're so proud of him, even when he's being a pain in the ass; you are so proud of your son that it's painful._

 

_He's your son, and you love him, and you don't want to let him go, but you have to._

 

Herc lets out a deep sigh, as if he'd been holding his breath.

 

“It should be me going down there with him.” His voice tightens, as he turns to look Raleigh straight in the eye. “It should be me.”

 

Raleigh's eyes fall to Herc's arm, still broken and in a sling, and he suddenly looks away, ashamed for reasons he can't fully identify. Superhuman healing had made sure any damage he'd occurred during the last battle was but a distant memory. It seems so unabashedly unfair in retrospect.

 

“If things had been different...” Herc starts, before trailing off.

 

“We probably wouldn't be living the lives we have right now.” He says, trying to lighten the mood. It's largely unsuccessful, because Herc still looks like he's heading off to a funeral. Maybe he is.

 

“Yeah.” He clears his throat, “We probably wouldn't.”

 

_Would that be better, though?_

 

Herc makes to move away, but stills, turning back to Raleigh, a question brimming on his lips.

 

“Your mum...” At first, Raleigh's unsure of why Herc would even think to mention her, but then remembers that Herc _had the key._ He'd held the key to Raleigh's childhood in his hands and he had been a complete idiot and not even _asked_ where the older man had gotten it from. He can't even begin to imagine how _that_ conversation had gone.

 

Probably very poorly, and maybe a little violently. He'd grown up with his mother playing the part of a simple housewife, albeit one who literally turned into a scary monster when people got her mad. You didn't raise three eternally squabbling wolf children by having the constitution of a wet tissue.

 

“I... I called her.”

 

“Good. She deserves to know.” Herc nods, a sound of assent leaving him. Deserves to know what, that the last shard of her pack is going to walk off into the ocean and probably not come back?

 

He suddenly feels guilty for even thinking that; standing in front of him is a man who is literally sending his son off to _die_ , against his will. A man who has sacrificed so much of his life already fighting the monsters from the deep, when Raleigh ran off with his tail literally between his legs into the woods for five years.

 

No, he definitely has no place ever thinking ill thoughts towards this man.

 

“And Raleigh?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I know... things haven't been the best for you. I wasn't a huge part of your life, but I've watched you and your siblings grow over the years, from a pack of bratty little wolf pups into respectable young adults.” His grip on Max's leash visibly tightens, as if he's trying to find the words. Maybe trying to get the point across to someone who's not his son is easier, Raleigh privately thinks.

 

“I know everyone always told you that you were your father's son, for all that you looked like him, but...” and the part that stings is that it's true; all three Becket children took generously enough after their father that people didn't even _realize_ that they were their mother's children as well, her different pallor and darker hair not exactly helping in that regard. “You truly are your mother's son, I think. And that's a damn good thing for us, I reckon.” Raleigh's not really sure how to respond to that, but Herc just sighs again; a tired, worn sound that mimics the state of things right now.

 

“Maybe I don't have the right to say this, but... I'm proud of you. We're all counting on you.” And there goes his heart, threatening to spill out everything he's always wanted to say but can't.

 

The only thing he can really say is “...Thank-you, Sir.”, because if he tries to say anything he's probably going to blurt out something embarrassing. There is an unsaid _We will protect them,_ because as much as Raleigh wants to, he can make promises he knows he can't keep, not to Herc.

 

They part ways after that, Herc to see off Chuck and Raleigh off to Gipsy's loading bay. He wonders if this is the last time he'll ever see Hercules Hansen, and then waves away the treacherous thoughts; he can't afford to bring any of that into the Drift, not today.

 

 

(And there is a part of Raleigh that wants desperately to go with him to say goodbye, but he can't, _he can't.)_

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the time they get back to the Shatterdome, the two of them spy an array of people waiting for them on the helipad; Herc, surrounded by various techs from LOCCENT along with Tendo and the scientists. At first, Raleigh wonders why they would all be so stern faced to see them, but once he hops off the helicopter, Herc answers that question for him.

 

“They found a third escape pod; they're bringing it back now.” He says it without preamble, and that makes the medical team standing just a ways off from them much more understandable. The desperation and hope in Herc's eyes is so genuine and on his sleeve that it _hurts_ Raleigh. Next to him, he hears a sharp intake of breath from Mako, her eyes filled with the same hope he sees mirrored back at him from Herc.

 

“Life signs?” He's almost afraid to ask, but Mako seems to hear his thoughts and voices them herself; his heart has jumped into his throat and removed all higher thought other than _he could still be alive._ Stacker... Stacker _would_ have done it, too. He could have piloted Striker himself, could have ejected Chuck out. The escape pods had certainly been greatly enhanced in preparation for the payload they'd strapped to Striker's back.

 

Tendo nods at him, face grim, “They're faint... but they're there.” That's good, but not great news. He still would have had to withstand the resulting blast, and the pods weren't made to take that shit head on. Evidently, Herc realizes that as well, because Raleigh doesn't sense any relief pouring off of him just yet.

 

He can't, none of them can; not until they actually see the state that Chuck is in.

 

Of course, Raleigh thinks, once the aforementioned chopper comes into view, he's more than a little afraid of what he's going to find when they bring him down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chuck Hansen is, quite plainly, a _fucking mess._

 

Raleigh's seen some pretty bad injuries in his life, ranging from the first time he'd really been hurt (getting caught in a freak avalanche with Yancy when he'd been 14, and having bits of bone poke out from his leg where it had snapped in half; Yancy had to break the bone back into place to make sure it hadn't healed crooked) to the first time that him and Yancy had been hit hard enough by the Kaiju (resulting in two broken arms, a fractured clavicle, a shattered femur for Yancy and cleanly snapped humerus for himself, and 16 cracked ribs _for the both of them)._

 

For Weres, the real danger was broken bones; when they were running high on adrenaline, the healing rate _skyrocketed._ It had been as much of a race against time for them to get _out_ of their dive suits and make sure all the bones were set properly, or they'd heal wrong because they healed _too fast._ He remembered a particularly gruesome day where one of Chrome Brutus's pilots, a lovely little bobcat and the only other Were at the Icebox, had to have both legs re-broken after they'd healed completely lopsided.

 

Chuck, however, has no such safety net.

 

Raleigh has long stopped paying attention to the literal laundry list of injuries and missing limbs (amputation of right arm below the elbow, possibly also the left leg nearly from the thigh down) he'd incurred, instead staring at the wall while Mako listens with rapt attention, her worry pouring off of her, plain as day. He just can't look at Herc; anywhere other than the doctor or Herc's slowly falling face. His son has been brought back to him, yes, but is there even anything _left_ of him?

 

It seems like without a miracle, Chuck Hansen doesn't have much a chance left for him. Raleigh internally wonders if he's going to have watch Herc Hansen lose his son all over again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A flutter of movement several hours later, however, pulls him out of his slowly darkening thoughts; one of the other surgeons has come from what is clearly the operating room, and quickly jogs over to the doctor who had explained to Herc and Mako, whispering something urgently into her ear. At this, Raleigh's head whips around so fast he might have just given himself whiplash, but he can't stop himself from jumping from his seat and practically accosting the poor woman.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Ah... um...” He suddenly realizes that he's practically crushing her arm, and that she smells _incredibly_ nervous. He gently lets go and repeats himself, more politely.

 

“Please, what did you say?”

 

“The... Ranger Hansen seems to have stabilized...”

 

“And that's a bad thing?”

 

“No! I mean... he shouldn't be healing like _this._ He's showing little to no early symptoms of radiation sickness, which is _impossible_ because he _came in_ with signs of Acute Radiation Poisoning; it's as his body just... shrugged it off!We set the broken bones, but a good number of them are already _healed.”_ The doctor says emphatically. “He's also shown to be considerably resistant to the painkillers we've given him, nearly waking up several times already. It's like they're barely even affecting him.” She sounds incredibly frustrated, as if wracking her brain as to _why_ this is happening.

 

“Isn't Ranger Hansen _not_ a Were?” The doctor looks at him imploringly.

 

The other surgeon suddenly looks slightly sheepish, and Raleigh turns to her, desperation clear in his eyes.

 

“Also, um...” And wow, that's not terribly comforting, a surgeon saying 'um'. “The sections of his arm and leg that had to be amputated...” Raleigh winces at this, knowing it was coming but the fact that they still did it leaving a bad taste in his mouth, “they're _growing back.”_ God, she sounds almost afraid as she says it, as if he's going to denounce _her_ as crazy. A million thoughts flit through his head wildly, before realization hits him like a ton of bricks.

 

“Son of a bitch...” he murmurs, ignoring the sharp look Herc gives him from where he's now standing.

 

“We have to get him as far away from everyone as soon as possible.”

 

“What – what, we _can't,_ he's in critical condition!” One of the surgeons all but shouts this at him, completely mortified that he'd want to remove a patient still in critical condition. Normally, he'd be right there agreeing with them, but this case is slightly different.

 

“And in a few hours, he _won't be.”_ He bites out desperately.

 

“Raleigh.” Herc intones sharply, “What's going on?”

 

It takes a moment for him to gather his thoughts in a way that won't have him blurting them out wildly and incoherently, but he turns to Herc and Mako with a worried look on his face.

 

“Look, when... when we get hurt, we heal fast, okay? That's just how Weres are. And when we're hopped up on adrenaline, we heal _even faster._ And then there are stories of these... _”_ He waves his hands around for emphasis, “ _Late bloomers,_ who don't shift until they receive some sort of life-threatening injury or something, and they heal incredibly fast and then shift for the first time, but then they go totally nuts because they're not used to all the new scents and sounds that they now have access to.” He sees the realization slowly blossom on their faces, Herc's voice deathly quietly as he asks his next question.

 

“Are you saying...” There is a laser focused look in the new Marshall's eyes, one that would make Raleigh fear for his life if he wasn't currently so busy fearing for _Chuck's._

 

“We have to get him to an isolated room before he shifts and is completely overwhelmed by all these new senses, or else he's probably going to hurt himself and anyone around him.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

It takes some more convincing towards the medical staff, who are very insistent that, _no, you cannot kidnap our patient_ until Chuck's arm is magically and completely healed. After that, they seemingly just throw their hands up in the air while muttering “ _That's it, we're done, crazy fucking Weres,”_ and hand him over without further complaint. For a moment, he sort of wishes the Russian medical team was available, because they'd had to have experience with this sort of thing. Aleksis had been a late bloomer, hadn't he?

 

Currently, they have Chuck on a lowered gurney in the corner of an otherwise unoccupied room down a an emptied out hallway that had been used for storage for several years on the far east end of the Shatterdome. There had been some initial panic between the few of them aware of what was happening, but once they'd gotten Chuck with a final dose of some _very_ strong painkillers and situated in the room, it had calmed down a bit. It's still _really_ not the best option, as Chuck is still in what is definitely excruciating pain, but it's still a better alternative than having him flip out and murder half the medical staff. It's not like they have a _protocol_ for this sort of thing happening.

 

Now they just have to wait.

 

Of course, since Raleigh is the only other Were currently at the Shatterdome (the Russians are still out cold, but even if they'd been awake, a first time shifted Were was always more dangerous, and their injuries would put them at a much higher risk), that leaves him on babysitting duty.

 

Admittedly, as the aforementioned 'baby' could probably tear through concrete if properly motivated, it's probably best that he's on watch. Herc had to be literally dragged away by a just as concerned Mako and Tendo, while Raleigh now has the task of attempting to scare off an incredibly curious Newton, because their resident Kaiju-groupie wrangler, Hermann, is off base doing more important things, like awaiting the birth of his first child.

 

“I mean, come on, this is amazing; late bloomers are pretty rare, you know? And they're so spontaneous that there isn't much recorded on them that's not instantly lost, because it's not like we had much of a mind to keep track of them with the Kaiju around. There was a bit of a boom of them in recent years, you know, with the destruction of various cities in the wake of Kaiju attacks, but they're still a relatively unknown phenomenon.” Raleigh just _stares_ at Newt, because, um, _no,_ he is not going to be allowed in the room because that's fucking _psychotic._ Still, it's nice to know that Newt is equally crazy about other things he's interested in aside from the Kaiju, and his childish glee is keeping Raleigh from going completely bonkers right now.

 

“He'd probably freak out and try to rip you apart, you know.” Not that Raleigh isn't counting on getting torn to ribbons himself, depending on _what_ Chuck turns out. It's the main reason they have him on watch; he's the only person who can dependably restrain Chuck if it comes to that, and he'll be able to walk away from it afterwards.

 

Probably. Wolves don't have natural predators, but it would still really suck to have wrestle a Siberian Tiger. Maybe he'll luck out and Chuck will turn out to be something terribly benign, like a wallaby or a koala. Those are Australian, right?

 

Oh, he'll be _so mad_ if Chuck turns out to be a prehistoric land mammal. If he survives his first shift, that is.

 

“It sure would be cool, though. I mean, what do you think he turns into? I've heard that the parent's species isn't always indicative of what the offspring become; sometimes when only one parent is a Were, the other parent gene's have more sway in what the resulting kids are. That's _crazy,_ you get me? They literally _change species_ if the winds change direction. Does that happen because it's an evolutionary advantage? We don't know.” And the thing here is that Raleigh actually _does_ get that. He can't help but join in at this point, when he really actually should be telling Newt to run off before Chuck wakes up.

 

Part of it, he can tell, is because Newt is just as nervous as the rest of them. In that moment, the realization strikes him that as much of an utter asshole Chuck can be, there are still people, _lots_ of people, who are more than a little fond of him. Care about him as a human being, even.

 

“I can see that to an extent; my mom is a Grey Wolf, along with my my younger sister. My older brother was a Yukon Wolf, and I'm an Arctic Wolf. I mean, we're all still _wolves,_ but...” That had never really been fully explained to him in his youth, but at the time he'd just accepted it and moved on. Quite frankly, there had been more important things to worry about, like the fucking Lovecraftian monsters coming from the rift in the Pacific.

 

“Wait, why am I even discussing this? You need to _clear out_ of here right now, because once he wakes up, he's probably not going to be very happy.” It was amazing how many people had already cleared out within the following _day_ after Operation Pitfall, and the number of empty rooms down deserted hallways was even more staggering, but hundreds of scents still mingled in the air around them, thankfully mostly faint. The musty steel would smell rather sharp at first, but it was a good grounder verses the _rest of the entire Shatterdome._

 

“Yeah, Chuck isn't really much of a morning person.” Newt muses idly, before Raleigh forcefully (well, gently, he's tiny) pushes him down the hall before he has time to follow _that_ train of thought, on what Chuck must be like in the mornings.

 

“ _Now, Dr. Geizsler_.”

 

“Alright, _alright,_ but I expect details, okay? There have never been any recorded observations of late bloomers in a controlled environment-”

 

“NEWT.”

 

“Okay, leaving now, goodbye, don't get your head ripped off!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's only when there's complete silence, the only sounds Chuck's ragged breathing from within the room, the ambient creaks and groans of the metal walls around them, and his own racing heartbeat, that he allows himself to steal into the room. It's larger than his assigned bedroom, but still painfully small to any Were used to wide open spaces.

 

Still, Newt's ridiculousness had helped in lightening the mood, just a little bit. As he walks over to where Chuck's laying barely comatose, he realizes that this is the point where _he_ should probably start freaking out.

 

Good god, _Chuck is a Were._ All those times he poked fun at Herc for Chuck's apparent lack of a tail seemed so much harsher in hindsight now.

 

It hits him less severely than he figures it should have, though, probably because he's spent so much time already wondering _why_ Chuck isn't one. Maybe he'd mentally prepared himself for it. Chuck's scent hasn't _changed_ that much even; it's more like the puzzle pieces have simply slotted themselves into place in his mind, the world suddenly making more sense. Chuck Hansen is a Were. It's just a matter of fact now.

 

Maybe, but the pained look on Chuck's face, parts of him still wrapped in gauze, makes him wish it hadn't needed to get to this point. He spends longer than he really should running his eyes down Chuck's battered body; the quickened healing had taken care of the absolute worst of it, and he was no longer in danger of dying, but the mental toll was still a complete blank to him. Humorlessly, Raleigh thinks that they now have matching scars; he'll never quite know why the scars from the dive suit never fully healed, either as a reminder of what could happen or a testament to his hubris.

 

Raleigh has no idea who or what would be facing him once the ranger wakes up; Chuck Hansen, or a rampaging Were. He has _no idea_ and he's actually terrified at the thought, because, yes, there _have_ been those who lost themselves to the shift and never came back from the brink, and considering the life that Chuck has had... He tries not to dwell on it, but his thoughts are cut short when Chuck starts to stir, not as graciously as the sleeping beauty Raleigh had originally likened him to.

 

Part of him wants to reach out and grab Chuck's hand, but he knows if he does he might end up one limb less than he started out with. Instead, he stays at a safe – but still probably way too close – distance, fingers twitching. A tiny, weak gasp escapes the figure on the bed, his fingers desperately grasping for something, anything, but the blanket beneath him is a poor substitute for a warm body.

 

And, okay, Raleigh goes back on his resolve to stay away almost _immediately_ , which really says something about his self-preservation skills, but Chuck's hand in his is warm and _alive_ even though the grip is weak and he doesn't even care anymore.

 

“Chuck, _Chuck,_ it's okay, it's okay.” He's honestly just saying anything at this point, because he's never been in a situation quite like this one. Chuck looks at him, eyes glassy and unfocused, but there's definite fear in them; fear from the pain, from the memories of when he'd surely thought he'd die.

 

Fear from the feeling of something determined to tear itself out of him.

 

He's never had to really _explain_ what it's like before, because shifting has always been such an integral part of him that he's never known anything else. Not until drifting with Mako, someone who is so completely human he can see himself in her mind, can see how she feels the shift of his body so perfectly in her head. Chuck's trembling almost violently now, his body caught in full on convulsions.

 

“It's like the drift.” He swallows, trying to find his voice. Trying to stay calm; fuck, how had Yancy remained more composed than this when he'd been ripped away from the conn-pod. “You have to just let it flow around you. You can't get lost, you can't. Don't chase the pain, just let it slip away. It's like a trigger goes off and you just _know._ ” He's muttering nonsense, he thinks, but it seems to be working, giving Chuck a focal point to put his attention on.

 

“Don't get lost.” He repeats, leaning down and murmuring softly into Chuck's ear. “Come back to me.”

 

That. That's the trigger.

 

The thing about shifting is that it's a full-body thing. Experienced Weres can shift certain parts of their bodies, yes, but when you _really_ shift, when you become the animal, there's nothing else like it. Chuck's grip suddenly tightens on his hand impossibly hard; there's a _ripping_ sound and then, Chuck suddenly _isn't_ human shaped anymore.

 

Raleigh is nearly thrown back by the explosion of movement that ends with stars in his eyes and something _very_ heavy pushing him up against the wall. There's a minute where sheer panic fills his head, before the heavy form pushing at him gives way and lets him fall bonelessly to the floor. It takes a moment before a wet, black nose is weakly snuffing at his face, his vision still spotty. He blinks, spending the next few minutes trying to clear his vision and wondering why his throat hasn't been torn out yet, hands blindly reaching around until they grasp what (he hopes) must be a face.

 

Furry, obviously, with an elongated snout and identical triangular ears at the top of what he assumes is the skull as he gently runs his fingers along it. He blinks hard, one final time, before opening his eyes and seeing a shape that he'd recognize anywhere. He blinks again, once, twice, three times, as if the image will vanish if he just thinks hard enough.

 

The giant ginger wolf gazing balefully at him doesn't disappear, merely becoming more focused each time he opens his eyes. It – _he,_ definitely male _–_ raises it's head to lean on his shoulder, a soft whimper leaving him. Raleigh recognizes the apology for what it is, and just nods his head in assent while still completely astonished. He suddenly chuckles, somewhat awestruck with the realization of just _what_ Chuck has turned into. Not just turned into, but not going crazy as well.

 

“You must have found a good grounder...” Raleigh murmurs.

 

Chuck is a _wolf._ He has to stop himself from going into a manic full body laugh, or else he won't be able to stop.

 

“Your dad,” He starts, reaching out and twirling a tuft of reddish-brown fur, not nearly as long or thick as his own, but then, he's still got his winter coat, “Is going to skin me alive.” The wide smile on his face betrays his words, but Chuck just snuffles dramatically and rearranges his now giant body to not so comfortably sandwich Raleigh between himself and the wall. He's still incredibly weak, new shift notwithstanding, and Raleigh manages to slip out of the furry grip with only a pitiful whine from Chuck.

 

“Hold on, hold on, you impatient gremlin, I'm making this easier for the both of us.” He says while pulling off his sweater. Chuck eyes him, blue orbs sliding up his form in a way that is far more analyzing than it should be, and Raleigh just grins as he pulls off his pants, laughing again when Chuck averts his gaze suddenly. If he'd been human, he'd definitely be blushing.

 

Within moments, Raleigh's human form disappears and a white wolf slots itself into the space at Chuck's side.

 

Annoyingly, it's rather obvious very quickly that Chuck is _much_ bigger than him, but he merely bites the fur at the scruff of Chuck's neck softly to show his displeasure. Unfortunately, the larger wolf seems to realize this as well, and his tongue lolls out in the approximation of one of Chuck's patented shit-eating grins. It's even worse because this means he fits _perfectly_ at Chuck's side, and Raleigh's certain once they're both on two legs again, he's never going to hear the end of this.

 

Regardless of the endless mockery that's sure to follow, however, he nudges Chuck until the other wolf gets the message, and drowsily lays his head down to sleep.

 

Raleigh will watch over him, because you watch over pack when they need you. And right now, Chuck needs him, even if he'd never admit it out loud. As wolves, there's a much better understanding between the two of them, and the thought flits through his mind before he realizes that it's not his own, but Chuck's.

 

_You smell like home._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chuck sleeps for approximately a million years. Though he himself had woken up a few times, Chuck slept on like the dead, which made sense, as his body was still trying to heal and balance out everything.

 

It could be a day or a week or a month later, he wouldn't know, when he finally pulls himself away from the sneak-cuddler that Chuck has turned out to be, the promise of food a good deterrent to staying asleep for another whole day. Chuck whines at the loss of heat, because they'd still slept on a cold concrete floor, and shakily rises to his feet after him.

 

By the time Chuck has shaken away the drowsiness and yawned very pointedly, showing off his mouth full of brand new, shiny razor sharp teeth, Raleigh's already shifted back and is pulling on his sweater.

 

“You should probably avoid shifting for a few days; the first one is always the worst, and takes a pretty big toll on you.” Chuck snorts, bumping his head into the side of Raleigh's ribs. He's constantly shoving his nose into Raleigh's side, his back, (and on one occasion, his rear end, to which Raleigh had to swat him away), scenting him all over.

 

“You ready to take on the world?” He's got a strong grip on the scruff around Chuck's neck, but since Chuck is seemingly glued to his side now, he doesn't feel like it'll be much of a problem.

 

“If you start feeling overwhelmed, just focus on me, okay?” Chuck just huffs, his tail all but wagging now, but he presses further into Raleigh's side. It's a real concern, even though Chuck has been incredibly aware for a first timer. They'll have to ease him out into the Shatterdome and hope it holds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Herc's face, when he walks into the man's room with a giant ginger wolf next to him, has never made Raleigh want a camera more badly in his entire life until this moment. There's a mixture of obvious _relief_ and _oh thank god he's alive and not crazy_ , but as Herc's eyes flit between the two of them, back and forth, the relief gives way to _Are you fucking kidding me._

 

Before the man can rise from his seat, Chuck trots over to him, a pleased sound leaving him; Raleigh takes it as a _good, good, you're alive_ sound. Herc looks _dumbfounded_ , because when was the last time Chuck was actually _pleased_ to see him? His good hand slowly raises, Chuck butting his head against it softly.

 

“You've got your mum's colors.” Herc says, voice thick, scratching at a spot behind his ears, smiling at the pleased sound Chuck makes. The wolf then sits back on his haunches, one paw laying on Herc's knee, pawing at it like he has something to say. Of course, it would figure that by the time Chuck has something to say to his dad he can't _actually speak._

 

“He's, ah, kind of in a puppy-like mindset right now. You know, hormones are all out imbalance for the moment. He'll go back to grumpy Chuck once he shifts back.” Raleigh supplies from the doorway, arms crossed with a soft smile on his face. “You got a camera around here anywhere?”

 

“Mako's got one.” Herc responds, distracted. It's then that Chuck whines, before shuffling his body closer until he's as close to being on Herc's lap as he can be. The closest thing Raleigh can describe it as is a hug. At Herc's dazed expression, it's obvious Chuck hasn't been this affectionate in years. It's not like Raleigh knows the Hansens haven't so much as _hugged_ in almost ten years.

 

“He's going to kill us if we ever mention this when he shifts back.”

 

“Yeah, but it'll be worth it.” Raleigh grin can only be described as wolfish, and Herc barks in laughter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“His mother,” Herc starts slowly, looking equal parts amused and annoyed, coming together beautifully to form _completely fucking exasperated,_ “Was a dingo.”

 

Newton, by contrast, looks like he's going to have heart palpitations, he's so _excited_ , because Raleigh has just given him a (edited) play by play of the preceding events. Very edited. Tendo just seems _way_ too amused by all of this, and that's just not fair because this _totally isn't Raleigh's fault._ Mako's taken Max off somewhere because while Chuck seems harmless for now (and that's one that someone is going to find hilarious somewhere) he still doesn't know his own strength and they don't want him accidentally stepping on his beloved bulldog or something.

 

Also, he'd _growled_ at Mako when she'd stepped too close to Raleigh, somewhat instinctively rather than out of any actual ill-will. She'd been warned not to take it personally, but Raleigh could still sense the tiny bits of hurt radiating off of her. After all, she and Chuck had known each other since they'd been children. He'd send Chuck back to her with an apology once he came to his senses. Hopefully.

 

Herc continues, ignoring Newton, which by now is considered a superpower by some. “Not. A wolf.” He sends a meaningful look Raleigh's way, who's doing his best to look as innocent as possible, meaning he's not doing anything other than keeping his hands from wandering past their spot behind Chuck's ears, returning an earlier favor. Chuck's earlier affection had simmered that pool of rage that was forming, but Hercules Hansen was still a father.

 

As much as Raleigh wants to retort with _What do you think I had to do with this?,_ he also doesn't want to risk the wrath of a father protecting his only child's perceived virtue, even if that only child is a complete twat on the best of days. Chuck had to inherit that bitch face from somewhere, after all, and his mother had apparently been a paragon of virtue and good feelings, so that only left Herc.

 

“You think it's an instinctive thing? Like, if he'd shifted when he was born, then he'd probably be a Dingo because he was raised around another Dingo, i.e. his mother, but maybe because Raleigh's been in such close contact with him,” Herc shoots him another poisonous look at the words _close contact_ , “he sees him instinctively as pack, so it would make more sense to his primal mind to be the same breed? But aren't Dingos relatively social pack animals as well? They're a sub-species of Grey Wolves, though, so...” He motions wildly with his hands in a way that Raleigh has come to fondly regard as _simply Newt_. They're seated in the mess, and aside from a few techs off in the corner who are doing a pretty good job of not staring, they're alone.

 

“He's not the same type of wolf as me, though. He's a Eurasian Wolf. They're actually known to _not_ be as pack oriented as other wolves, but, I mean, that's the what the _actual_ wolf is known for. I've never known any Weres of that particular species.” Raleigh supplies, handing off a chunk of meat to Chuck, who eyes it momentarily before chomping it down, while Tendo frowns, pondering something.

 

“Why didn't he turn into a Leopard or a Bear then? He's known the Kaidanovskys longer.” No one speaks for a moment as they all turn their gazes to Chuck the wolf, who's currently doing his damnedest to become one with Raleigh's shoulder, apparently, given how close he's nudging himself against him.

 

“They're not really pack animals,” Raleigh supplies, “They don't exactly perpetuate pack values in others, though I've heard of groups of them wandering together...”

 

“Because he's not as attached to them.” Herc suddenly says, and Raleigh can hear a note of realization in his tone. He suddenly laughs then, former bad mood seemingly forgotten, looking incredibly amused about something as he looks fondly at his son the wolf.

 

“He always wanted to be like you, when he was a kit.” He looks at Raleigh, who now has a sinking feeling in his gut, “Now I guess he really is.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

It takes a while, partially from Chuck realizing that he'd _growled_ at Mako earlier to the sad whimpers he was giving, before Raleigh realizes he's trying to sniff her out and find her. He takes pity on him, and the two of them set out to find her, though it takes a bit more pulling from Raleigh's end when Chuck seemingly loses his confidence.

 

It says something though that he still tenses up when they find her, out on the helipad watching the ocean roil below. Raleigh grips Chuck's scruff firmly, leaning over to whisper something into his ears as Mako turns to them.

 

“She's not a wolf, but she's pack.” He sharply intones. “ _Pack.”_

 

For whatever reason, that seems to do the trick, and the tension slowly leaves Chuck's body as Mako warily makes her way over to them. She eyes Chuck suspiciously, a calculating look in her eyes. Raleigh feels Chuck nearly bow in submission next to him, but it seems that only through sheer stubbornness he manages to stay above his own instincts.

 

“He came to apologize.” He says smoothly, and there's a glint in Mako's eyes at that, when Chuck leans close to her and butts his head into her side, gently.

 

“We were all very worried about you.” She says, running her hands through his tawny red fur. He croons loudly, apology apparently accepted, but it strikes Raleigh that this is still _Chuck._ He's just acting without the asshole veneer in place. They're a tactile species, Chuck seeming all but touch starved.

 

Chuck is so going to hate them all the moment he's in the right state of mind again.

 

“Try not to be so jealous, next time.” Chuck looks personally affronted at this, as if thinking _why would I ever be jealous of anyone around Becket,_ at least as much as a wolf can. Since he can't do anything to Mako, he just whacks Raleigh with his tail.

 

The three of them end up sitting on either side of Chuck, gazing out into the sea and watching the world pass by. It's over, Raleigh thinks, _it's over,_ and a breathless laugh escapes him, as if finally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I obvious or _what_.
> 
> (also, definitely not over! You think I'm gonna pass on all the fluff and embarrassment for Chuck now?)
> 
> Come tumble with me [here](http://happyasaghost.tumblr.com/)! I'm trying to get some art out for this but I am as a bad an artist as I am a writer, _lol_.


	7. We will all be okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD YOU GUYS ;__; I never meant for this chapter to take so long, but here we are… I’m super hesitant and unsure about it, even though I’ve been sitting on it for a while, BUT HERE YOU GO. There’s pretty much just this chapter left and one very long, fluffy, and terribly self indulgent epilogue, so stay tuned (if any of you are even still reading this).
> 
> I’m warning you all that this is literally 10,000 words of utter nonsense, as I may have lost my mind while writing this. There's also probably a million errors as I was half awake when I posted this, so I apologize for the many probable errors ;__;
> 
> (There's some smut at the end but it's fairly terrible uhhhh)

 

 

There's a woman in the now silent and empty Jaeger hangar.

 

She's short, much shorter than Mako, who's used to being around literal giants and people of considerable height, barely 5'1. Older, but not older looking; probably around Herc or Stacker's (and her heart constricts momentarily at the thought of him) age, and she possesses the same world weary presence that the new Marshall carries with him. Long black hair falls past her shoulder, though she's practically buried under a heavy winter coat that gives off the impression that she's come from somewhere very cold. She just looks so  _tiny_ in such a giant space, to the extent where it looks slightly ridiculous.

 

Currently, she's looking around with interest, perhaps slightly lost, before Mako decides to go engage her. The hangar is most empty, a fews weeks following their last, final drop. Many of the techs have already taken off; after all, there are no Jaegers left to maintain. Tendo had informed her that there had been someone waiting to speak to the Marshall, but as he'd been busy with his new duties, Mako had taken up this task.

 

Normally, Mako would not give her much mind, but she's seen this woman before. Seen her in someone else's memories, at her best and at her worst. There's a moment where she wonders just  _how_ she got here, but if this is who she thinks it is, she's sure they're very resourceful.

 

“Mrs. Becket.” She starts, pleasantly enough. Raleigh's mother – because who else could be this be, they have the same impossibly blue eyes – turns to her as she makes to introduce herself. Mako doesn't pretend that she's managed to sneak up on this woman, but the look of surprise on her face tells her otherwise. She tilts her head, as if analyzing her; Mako tries to tell herself that it's just a coincidence that reminds her of how  _Raleigh_ tilts his head as a wolf, because that's a fairly common action, but...

 

“My name is-”

 

“You're Mako Mori, aren't you?” There's a soft lilt in her voice that Mako wasn't expecting. She's not used to people sounding like they're in such  _awe_ talking to her; there had been a time when she'd had some media attention on her,  _Little girl only survivor!,_ before that had melted away, her status as an icon a distant memory. Before she has time to blink, the woman suddenly has a sheepish look on her face, “I'm sorry, you were all over the news. It's hard not to know who you are.”

 

And how could she not pay attention to the news, when Mako had piloted Gipsy into the abyss with her own son? A thought crosses her mind, fear suddenly gripping heart; her  _sons_ had originally piloted Gipsy Danger, could she be even slightly resentful of the fact Mako had taken Yancy's place?

 

The warm smile she gets without a trace of malice banishes those thoughts immediately.

 

“You did a very brave thing, piloting with my son out there. It seems like everyone in Hong Kong is still celebrating.”

 

She can't help but ask, “How did you get here? The public is not allowed in until we've cleared out everything.” And until those with severe injuries are healthy enough to be moved; Jin and Hu are still in fairly bad condition, though Cheung is awake now. The Russians are back on their feet, apparently  _very_ amused with the turn of events but upset enough in their own way that they were unconscious and missed out on the  _fun._

 

“I called in a favor from one of Raleigh's friends, the one with the odd hair and suspenders.” Mako stifles a small laugh at this, because, yes, that sounds like Tendo. It makes sense that she would have known him, a flash from Raleigh's memories showing that Yancy had taken Tendo with him to convince her to move more inland. Internally, Raleigh's thoughts had privately wondered if it was more of a  _by the way, this is my not-boyfriend, mom,_ moments, but he'd never know. Mrs. Becket looks overly fond at this, before speaking again.

 

“I had to come, you know. Raleigh can't just call me and leave me hanging like that. I'm not going to let him run off after this, not again.” There's something more there, the slight tremble in her voice as she speaks. This woman is a wolf, through and through, but she is not a soldier. She has nearly lost everything dear to her heart and barely come through it, and Mako can empathize.

 

They've all lost something, but now they finally have the time to heal.

 

“I will take you to him, then.”

 

Mrs. Becket looks up at the empty spaces around them as they walk side by side, the docks once housing Jaegers long gone. The look on her face is a muted sort of awe, but her brows are furrowed, as if the sight isn't quite right.

 

“I used to hate them, these machines, almost as much as I hated the Kaiju.” she says, as if in awe of the now somber graves of the Jaeger's docks. “Yancy had sent me a picture of the one in Anchorage as a postcard, and I couldn't believe how  _big_ they were. It seems so empty without them here, though.” Her voice quiets at the mention of her eldest child, and Mako's mood immediately sobers.

 

“They were necessary; we would not have been able to fight back without them.” Mako replies, unable to stop herself from defending them, “It seems almost like the end of an age without them here, now, Mrs. Becket.”

 

“Please,” she suddenly says, leaning close to her the way that Raleigh does when he's scenting someone, “Just call me Kiche.”

 

She smiles, kindly, and Mako responds with a soft smile of her own.

  
  
  


 

 

Tendo's nervous.

 

Over what, Raleigh's not certain, partially because he perhaps hasn't paid much attention to anything other than Chuck for the past week. Chuck, who refuses to (or, perhaps more accurately,  _can't)_ shift back into human form.

 

Not that anyone's complaining; they now have enough blackmail to keep Chuck's mouth shut for the next five decades. He won't  _leave_ Raleigh's side, however, and that includes sleeping arrangements.

 

It's not that Raleigh has  _missed_ sleeping on the tiny beds that were supplied to them in the Shatterdome (five years in the wilderness made you get over your pickiness very quickly) but if Chuck doesn't shift back  _soon_ , he's going to lose his mind. There's a bed  _right there_ and he's forced to sleep on the floor because Chuck is feeling too cuddly and  _whines,_ because he can’t  _fit_ on the bed with him.

 

Not that it makes it obvious where they stand with one another; Raleigh's okay with waiting, but perhaps being fully prepared for Chuck to deck him when he shifts back doesn't speak well for how this  _relationship_ is going to turn out.

 

“It's too bad he won't stay all cuddly and cute like this once he shifts back... well, he'll still be cuddly physically, but with  _that_ personality? Not cute at all.” Newt says excitedly as he snaps a few more photos of Chuck rolling on the ground like a dog getting a good belly rub, Sasha's skilled fingers scratching his underside. His tongue is lolling out of his mouth again, and god, he looks way too silly to be one of the larger werewolves Raleigh has ever seen.

 

“He's definitely going to kill us for this. You've got backups, right?” Herc wanted some to make up for not having a lot of embarrassing baby photos left, possibly as a passive-aggressive revenge for all the shit Chuck had put him through in the past, and now seemed like the perfect time to take advantage of that. Both of the Russians are  _way_ too amused at this, and Chuck the human's fondness of them seems to override Chuck the wolf's natural wariness of cats and bears, because he hasn't so much as growled at them.

 

“Is very much like puppy.” Sasha says, her normally cold veneer tinged with warmth. Part of her, Raleigh can tell, wants to shift and play rough, but they all realize that may not be the best route of action until Chuck is... less puppy like.

 

Yeah, they're definitely going to milk this for all it's worth.

 

It's then that Tendo slides over to him, finicking with his rosary.

 

“Hey, Rals, I got some I should probably tell you...”

 

He quirks a brow, “Yeah, what would that be?”

 

“I got... a call, a few days ago...” Raleigh nods slowly, suspicion creeping up his spine. Before he can ask Tendo to clarify, Chuck's ears cock up as he flips himself back onto four legs, snout pointed straight down the hallway where Raleigh can faintly hear footsteps coming from. Sasha almost looks put out at the loss of her wannabe scratching post while the familiar cadence tells him it's Mako.

 

And... someone else. He recognizes the second pair of footsteps immediately, tiny feet in soft soled shoes. Chuck's staring intently down the hall, before he darts off with nary a yip or bark to Raleigh.

 

“Tendo,” He turns to his old friend, suddenly serious, “Tell me you didn't.”

 

“What could I do, man? She played the  _Would you do this for poor little old me, most of my children are dead_ card.” Growing up with three rambunctious wolf pups meant that you had to learn to  _fight dirty_ if you wanted things to get done.

 

Raleigh just throws his hands up in the air, massaging his temples as he looks off in the direction Chuck ran to. The thought dawns on him that Chuck has been sleeping in his room for two weeks, has been sleeping  _next_ to him for two weeks, and that his mother is  _definitely_ going to be able to smell that.

 

“I am so dead.”

  


 

 

There is someone who smells like Raleigh but isn’t Raleigh. She’s small but he can smell the Alpha emanating from beyond her human form, and while his first thoughts would be to  _challenge the new alpha_ , he can sense that she is still  _pack._

 

She is the head of Raleigh’s pack, his wolf brain thinks. The part of Chuck that is more wolf than human (and that’s most of him right now) recognizes that she has seniority over him, and it’s the only reason he doesn’t snarl at her for entering his territory. She has just as much right to be here as he does at the moment, something which she too seems to understand, nodding her head at him when he comes into sight.

  


 

“Hello, who are you?” Mako suddenly realizes something they may not have put much thought into. The look on Kiche’s face suddenly changes, her eyes narrowed as she takes in the sight before her.

 

“You smell like... my son.” One of her brows raise as she gives the giant wolf before her an appraising look, taking a very purposeful step around him, taking in his entire appearance. Most wolves  _aren't_ taller than humans, but the situation is slightly skewed by the fact that Chuck as a wolf is  _huge_ , while Mrs. Becket is... barely to Mako's shoulder, height wise.

 

Next to the freakishly gargantuan red wolf (something which Raleigh has sworn up and down is  _not usual, stop thinking this is cool, Newt)_ , however, she's positively tiny.

 

That doesn’t stop her from looking like death has loomed over, engaging in a silent stare down with Chuck; Mako wants to go and stamp on his paw lest he dares  _growl_ at her, because this is  _not_ someone that he should piss off.

 

Especially since she can probably smell that he’s been sharing a bed with her son for two weeks. And  _especially_ not since he probably wants to do more than just share a bed with him.

 

Chuck, to his credit, doesn’t growl or do anything immediately insulting like he usually does. Not even when Kiche’s hands snap out lightning fast and grab hold of his face from either side, pulling him close as if to examine him. Mako, honestly, is somewhat surprised with how much Chuck is letting this unfamiliar woman manhandle him.

 

Well, maybe not that unfamiliar; Chuck has to be able to scent bits of Raleigh off of her. That has to be worth  _something._

 

“Open.” She taps the side of his jaw and he complies, and, well, this is sort of surreal, Mako thinks, because Chuck is being probably more polite now than he’s been in his entire life. She seems to find his pearly white teeth satisfactory, before patting the top of his head and letting his mouth snap shut, though her hands are still gently holding his snout.

 

“You’re Hansen’s pup, aren’t you?” The tone she uses sounds the same as if she were talking to a child who’d just knocked over a vase. She gets a small sound of what has to agreement huffed out.

 

“It’s nice that my son found such a  _strong_ young wolf like you.” She suddenly pulls his face forward again, staring him down as her hands constrict around his mouth like a cage, effectively forming a muzzle with her tiny fingers. Chuck Hansen has never been one to show fear, Mako thinks, but there’s a glint of  _something_ like hesitation (or maybe self-preservation) in Chuck’s eyes as Kiche’s smile turns positively feral.

 

They stare at each other for another moment, before Kiche seems to have enough of harassing him, and lets him go with a soft scratch to behind his ear.

 

“You’ll be good for him, I think. Keep him on his toes.” And that, Mako supposes, is as good a blessing as any, especially since Chuck probably thought he wouldn’t even have to go and ask for such a thing.

 

It’s then that hesitant footsteps make their way down the hall, familiar claws clacking on the burnished steel floor. Raleigh slowly makes an appearance, his head held low and his tail between his legs as he draws nearer.

 

It’s interesting, Mako thinks, how  _small_ he can make himself look; Chuck’s ears immediately prick up as he turns his head excitedly to face the other wolf, but a swift black shape quickly moves past him before either of them could blink. Where Kiche had been before, a sleek black wolf takes her place, standing between Chuck and Raleigh. When Chuck’s ears pin down to the back of his skull and he makes a move forward, the black wolf’s jaws snap open in a soundless snarl, a warning to stay back.

 

Oh. This could be bad. Raleigh whines loudly, trying to take her attention off of Chuck, maybe.

 

No one, Mako thinks, would dare get between a wolf mother and her pup, even if that pup is her size now.

 

No one except Chuck, who takes another purposeful step forward and gets another, louder snarl in response this time. When Chuck stops, Kiche turns back to the other wolf, a loud crooning sound reverberating from her throat as she licks at his face. Raleigh seems only slightly abashed, and the put off look on Chuck’s face (or as put off as a wolf can look) makes it apparent that there’s no real animosity behind it. She just wants to see her son.

 

It’s odd to be seeing this with no verbal context, Mako notes, but it seems like Kiche simply wanted to greet her son as they’d usually communicated; from the time she’d spent in Raleigh’s head it was obvious that him and his mother were always better at communicating as wolves, for whatever reason.

 

The black wolf nuzzles her snout across the white wolf’s face, before giving him one last nip at his side and tossing an amused glance back at Chuck, who’s been sitting  _patiently_ waiting for her to finish. She yips at the two of them, and then glances back at Mako, large familiar blue eyes more human than animal. The surprising thing is when she leaves Raleigh’s side, making a show of nuzzling close to Chuck as well. Scent marking, Mako wonders, before nipping lightly at him as well and then trotting back over to Mako, nudging her hand softly. In acceptance, she mutely realizes.

 

She noses at her discarded clothes, and Mako leans down to grab a few articles of clothing for her that she can’t pick up with her jaws. Together, the four of them, three wolves and a human, make their way down the hall, Mako and Kiche in front with Raleigh and Chuck nearly glued to each other’s sides behind them.

 

Mako can’t keep the small smile off her face when Kiche huffs in amusement, casting a glance back at the other two.

 

They’ll be okay.

  
  


 

 

It’s much later when they’ve both shifted back that they find themselves sitting the mess hall; Max, amusingly enough, seems to have become smitten enough with his mother to follow her around rather than stumbling after him and Chuck, something that Chuck simply makes a dismissive snort at.

 

His mother pokes at his arm with a fork.

 

“You’re too big now, I can’t hug you like I use to. What happened to my little pup?” It’s the first time in over 7 years where they’ve seen each other face to face as humans and all she can do is bemoan  where her little slip of a teenager had gone. He hadn’t seen her at all during the two years after him and Yance had joined the PPDC, and ever after Yancy had died, Raleigh still couldn’t face her as a human.

 

It’s amazing, he thinks, that she hasn’t shred his throat to ribbons for that.

 

“You know, the women back in Anchorage never complained.” He was  _not_ sulking; he’d never be as bulky as Yancy, but hell, Ranger training had to have come in handy at some point, right?

 

“Then why did you only ever bring home boys, huh?” Across the table, Tendo tries to hide his loud guffaw behind a napkin but fails while Herc just makes a long suffering face. He'd definitely heard of some of Raleigh's _exploits_ over the years. Herc and his mother, thankfully, hadn’t come to any nasty words just yet, but the tension that had always been between seemed to bleed out when Chuck nuzzled Raleigh’s face. His mother turns to face Tendo, her eyes filled with amusement.

 

“Is that true, Mr. Choi?” The look on her face is positively dangerous with glee.

 

“Well… Can’t say there were many people complaining, male or female, when your boy would walk around shirtless…”

 

“ _Shirtless?_ I thought I’d taught you better than that.”

 

“You taught us that if we accidentally got locked out at night that it was acceptable to stand around naked until one of our neighbors saw us.”

 

“That was your fault for losing the spare key.” There’s a strange expression on Herc’s face then that Raleigh doesn’t quite catch, but it’s gone before he can dissect it further. To be honest, Raleigh doesn’t quite  _know_ what’s going on between his mother and Hercule Hansen, and he’s not certain he  _wants_ to. They’ve definitely spoken previously without it somehow devolving into a screaming match, but even then...

 

Regardless, the meal passes by in relative good humor, even when his mother shares a significant  _look_ with Chuck, but he tries not to put too much stock into it for the sake of his own sanity.

  


 

 

It figures that when Chuck shifts back, he has to do it as frustratingly as he can, the fucking prick. At least, Raleigh thinks, he does it in the privacy of their ( _his,_ not  _theirs)_ room.

 

It’s day six of  _Mom please we’re not mates STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT_ , and he’s escaped to the sanctuary of his room for the night, Chuck predictably trotting after him while his mother gives him a  _look_ from where she’s talking to Herc (and what the hell is that about, really?). It’s not like he  _cares_ that his mom and Herc of all people have… reconciled, possibly? But he can’t deny that it’s  _weird_ ; probably because he’s 96% certain they’re  _plotting_ something and  _that_ , he doesn’t like.

 

She's leaving tomorrow, for which Raleigh is  _eternally_ thankful for; he loves his mother, yes, of course, but she seems to have gone slightly batty at the thought of “ _Such a strong, healthy young wolf you’ve met here!”_ while tossing some very obvious hints of  _You know, I miss hearing the sounds of tiny paws on tile_ out there.

 

The last thing he needs is his mother  _and_ Herc plotting together for  _grandchildren,_ because  _no,_ that is not happening anytime soon.

 

It’s worse because every time his mother makes a thinly veiled comment, Chuck just tilts his head and burrows closer into Raleigh’s side. The closeness isn’t unusual for first time shifts, and they’re definitely a tactile species, but it’s still… suspicious. So, yeah, Chuck is definitely not helping the issue.

 

Especially when he lies down on the fold out bed that hangs off the wall, hands over his face, and Chuck just whines like an insolent pup. He peeks out from beneath his fingers, an exasperated sigh leaving him.

 

“No.”

 

Chuck whines more.

 

“You’re not a two month old pup, stop acting like one.” He’s being snippy, he knows, but dealing with a Were who is not acting his age  _plus_ his mother making snide comments about maybe being in the  _family way_ soon is doing wonders for his patience.

 

As if to prove his point, Chuck instead clambers onto the bed despite his protests, right on top of him, and lays down with a huff. For his complaining Raleigh gets a wet nose shoved into his face, along with wolf that is  _far too big_ to be on one of these rickety beds lying atop him, effectively suffocating him with fur. Of course, that’s when a loud creaking sound-

 

And then the bed just detaches from the wall and slams onto the floor with the two of them on it; Chuck yelps when they hit the floor, and both of their ears are still ringing with the sound of metal smashing onto concrete, still echoing around them.

 

He doesn’t say anything for about a minute, letting Chuck stew in his shame for the time being before speaking.

 

“I literally hate you so much right now.” His voice is muffled underneath Chuck’s mass, and Raleigh just… closes his eyes, tries to even out his breathing. “Please just shift back before I completely lose my mind.”

 

There’s a moment of silence, the only noise being Chuck’s light snuffling, before the weight recedes off of him. For a second he thinks that Chuck is leaving, but the weight returns, just covering less surface area. He opens his eyes then, coming face to face with a now human grin.

 

“You could have just asked, mate.”

 

“Jesus christ you are  _terrible.”_ And naked, Raleigh realizes slowly, possibly before Chuck himself. Very naked. His hands trail down a muscular torso before landing on Chuck’s hips, giving him a light pinch. “How long have you been able to do this?” Part of him is endlessly relieved, but the other part is also realizing that  _You haven’t been laid in five years and there is a gorgeous, well-endowed young alpha laying on you._

 

He didn’t think he’d turn into a dirty old man so soon, but, well.

 

“I figured I’d let you sweat it out for a little bit longer, I wasn’t in the mood to get interrogated by your mum.” Fair enough; at least as a wolf Chuck could avoid a verbal answer while playing dumb for his mother to coo at. He stops for a moment, looking contemplative.

 

“Your mum is crazy, by the way.” Raleigh ignores that jab, because it’s kind of… true.

 

“That was awfully nice of you then, giving us the opportunity to take all those  _cute_ pictures.” Chuck makes a face, as if suddenly remembering the now huge backlog of blackmail they all have on him.

 

“I’ll destroy them all eventually.” Evidently he’s more interested in tracing the line of Raleigh’s jaw, a hungry look in his eyes. Raleigh takes his hand, gently but forcefully; how did his life come to this? There’s a moment where the temptation is strong, where he wants to take Chuck’s face in his hands and trace those lips with his own, but...

 

“You wanna get dressed?” It’s a lame deflection, he knows, and it’s obvious Chuck isn’t falling for it because he tries to mold his body to Raleigh’s even more. When did baby Hansen suddenly become so  _bold_ with his overtures? Maybe the past few weeks as a wolf had boosted his confidence in getting Raleigh to do what he wanted. Or maybe he can just fucking smell how much Raleigh wants this, which is unfair now that the tables have turned.

 

“I much prefer this.” Chuck just  _snuggles_ closer to him, even though there’s not much closer he can get without ripping Raleigh’s own clothes off, something which he appears to be just short of doing. The younger man leans down, taking a long, deep breath of Raleigh’s scent, before pausing. His brows make an interesting shape as he seems to be considering something, sitting up then while still fucking straddling Raleigh’s hips.

 

“You smell different.”

 

“Well, yeah, now that you can smell pretty much anything-”

 

“No, no, you smell… different as a wolf.”

 

Ah.

 

“You can’t expect me to smell  _exactly_ the same from wolf to human, do you?” For a split second, Raleigh foolishly thinks that would be enough for Chuck to be satisfied with, but as Chuck is a fucking insolent little shit and a grade A weirdo, it’s not enough. He figures, however, that it’s not like this sort of thing never happens, so, whatever.

 

“You know that the parts don’t always match through a shift, right?” At Chuck’s furrowed brows, it’s apparent that he  _didn’t know._ Raleigh just sighs, because he remembers explaining this once to a confused tech back in Anchorage, and boy, had  _that_ been weird. He decides to just take pity on Chuck, the younger’s man’s face a painted mask of confusion.

 

“Maybe this will make it easier for you to understand. My mother was born as a wolf. Her biological parents, my grand-dam and grandsire, respectively, were both men as humans. As wolves...” He lets the words hang in the air, probably taking more pleasure in the confusion on Chuck’s face than he should, before it slowly blooms into realization.

 

“Are you saying that you’re not a bloke as a wolf?”

 

“That’s pretty much exactly what I’m saying.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Jesus christ, “Yeah. It also means that puberty was terrible and embarrassing for everyone involved.” Mostly Yancy, but that was another story for another day. There’s another indescribable expression gracing his face just then.

 

“And you could… have…?” He makes some undecipherable hand motion that Raleigh can only take to mean  _children._ Oh, god, the look on Chuck’s face is  _adorable_ , he thinks, wanting to lean forward and kiss the confusion away, but now is not the time for that if the younger man turns out to be having an existential crisis.

 

Also, puppies. With Chuck. Maybe they’d be ginger like him and- Raleigh needs to go sit in a cold shower because he cannot let those thought get the best of him.

 

“Theoretically, yes.” He says quickly, not wanting to think on that for too long, “But this isn’t too out there, you know. Like 30% of all Weres don’t always  _match_ between forms. It’s not a big deal.” And really, it isn’t, but as Chuck wasn’t particularly raised as one, it made sense that he didn’t quite  _know._

 

“Huh.” And Chuck just takes it all in, mulling over it for a moment. Raleigh considers it a small victory Chuck simply nods his head,  _okay,_ and leans in close again, though some part of him is still probably at least a little weirded out. They’ll… probably have a more indepth conversation about this later, when Chuck is less… naked.

 

Of course, whatever that  _could_ have happened then is abruptly cut off because Raleigh remembers that however much they both want this, everyone  _else_ is still waiting for Chuck to shift back.

 

“Your dad wants to speak to you.” Chuck just makes a scowling face.

 

“He can wait.”

 

“Also, if we  _do_ anything, my mom will smell it and never let you hear the end of it. And I’m sure your dad will know, they’ve been… plotting something together.” It’s not quite a  _no_ , more of a  _We can continue this later,_ but it seems to be enough of a deterrent for Chuck to sigh loudly, and make a dramatic show of getting off of him, seemingly unconcerned with his own nudity as he goes towards a pile of clothes Raleigh had kept in the room.

 

“Where did your modesty go?” Raleigh calls after him after Chuck makes  _sure_ that he sees his ass.

 

“Wherever my clothes went.” Comes the flippant answer.

 

“Those were pretty much destroyed when you first shifted.” He points out.

 

The cheeky smirk he gets in return is enough for him to throw a pillow at Chuck’s finely sculpted ass.

  
  
  
  
  


 

There’s a moment when Raleigh finds himself alone, Chuck kidnapped by his father for whatever reason, that his mother corners him on the observation desk. He fights the urge to shift, because the two of them have never been terribly good with words, not with each other.

 

“You like that boy quite a bit, don’t you?”

 

“Maybe more than a bit.” He admits, quietly. They hadn’t really had the chance to speak like this, not yet.

 

“Enough to consider him to be mate material?” She says, softly.

 

“I would have thought you’d be more against this, considering who his dad is.” He muses aloud, deflecting at the same time.

 

“You’re my son, but you’re an adult now, no longer a child for me to pick up and carry. You can make your own decisions.”

 

He turns to face her, this tiny being that raised him and his siblings; looking at her face, he can see the years and the loss etched plainly across her eyes, but she seems almost rejuvenated now. He still thinks she looks beautiful, single strands of greying hair here and there.

 

“The marshall,” She starts after a moment’s pause, pulling something out of her pocket, “Gave this back to me. But I think I would rather you have it.” She holds it out to him, a small object dangling on a chain.

 

It’s a key, he realizes with a jolt, familiar and worn.

 

“You actually went and talked to Herc?”

 

“We’ve… worked past our previous issues.” Is the only cryptic answer she gives, quirking her brows at him.

 

“Raleigh, you know you always have a home with me, wherever I am.” She lifts the chain and he bows his head, her small hands pushing the key into his own, covering it with her fingers, “But I think it’s time for you to have a place that you can call home for yourself, and your mate, and whatever pack you decide to raise.”

 

“Mom…” His fingers clench around the key.

 

“I’ve made a home for myself not too far from there, you know, but I don’t think I could go back there.” It hasn’t been her home, Raleigh thinks, for nearly 7 years. “It’s yours now.”

 

Fuck.

 

“You’re giving me the house?” It’s as if the breath has been stolen right from him, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing, his fist suddenly held to his heart. She just nods, pulling him down and laying a dry kiss on his forehead.

 

“It's going to need some work, but... You spent all those years in the woods near it, waiting for someone to come and find you, and you never once tried to go inside. I think you’ve done more than enough to deserve it; it’s always been yours, baby.” Her voice is a soft, lilting sound to his ears.

 

It doesn’t matter if the PPDC gives him a flush stipend for him to spend on anything he wants, it doesn’t matter if he could live anywhere in the whole fucking world. What matters is that his mother doesn’t hate him, and that she’s giving him back the one piece of their lives that isn’t in tatters.

 

“Mom… I don’t know what to say…” His arms find their way around her shoulders, pulling her close.

 

“You don’t have to say anything.” She feels so tiny in his grasp, and Raleigh can feel a hand tracing down the side of his face. Memories of a youth spent chasing his brother, before it had turned into Yancy and Jaz chasing after him come back to him, all the days spent lovingly at  _home_. Back when everything was better, maybe.

 

“We’ve never been very good with words, huh?” She just smiles at this, letting a hand run through his hair.

 

Maybe, he thinks, hiding his face in her hair while trying to blink away the tears that he knows are threatening to fall, like he’s a tiny pup again, maybe things will be okay this time.

 

He can finally go home again.

  
  


 

 

The day she finally leaves is one of both relief and sorrow to him.

 

“You be good and come visit soon, yeah?” The light in her eyes has returned, a sight he hasn't seen, not truly, in years. It had slowly dithered out starting with his father's death, coming back only to be drowned after both Yancy and Jaz had gone.

 

“Yeah... Yeah, I will.” There is so much more, he thinks, that could be said, but it seems like most of the communication between the two of them has always been without words. Being born as wolves likely had something to do with it, mom had never been as wordy with him as she’d been with Yance and Jaz in their youth. The key feels heavy in his pocket, and he’s acutely aware of it now, every time the chain jingles as he walks.

 

His mom looks at Mako, next to him, and a pleasant grin passes over her features as she pulls Mako in for a tight hug. The younger woman looks surprised for a moment, before a soft smile graces her lips and she returns the hug, albeit perhaps not as energetically.

 

“You will come visit with Raleigh, yes? I promise I have many more embarrassing photos and videos to share.” He just rolls his eyes, but the mirthful smile on Mako's face is slightly worrying. The last thing he needs is for the two of them to become  _friends_ and make his life significantly harder.

 

She looks at Herc, who somehow manages to straighten out further than he already was, and for a moment, Raleigh wonders how it's come down to this. He doesn't think they've ever had a conversation that didn't end with Herc feeling worse off than he did before or his mother swearing over the phone. Twenty years of animosity perpetuated by a mother in mourning, and yet, here they are, both worn down by the world passing them by, a little quieter, a lot older. The look she gives him is almost registered as fond, and when she speaks, her voice is quiet, words meant only for him, bringing in the universe around them to a tiny point in time.

 

“I am... glad you did not have to lose what I did.” At this, her eyes roll over to Chuck, who suddenly looks away, perhaps embarrassed, because even though she's whispering the words, his newly enhanced hearing picks up all of it, and the worst part is that she  _knows_ it too. “You have always been a good man, and it was remiss of me to never see you in that regard.” She pulls herself to her full height, a not so impressive 5'1, and smiles softly at him.

 

“Can’t say I did very much to change that opinion, not in the right way, at least.” Herc scratches the back of his head in a gesture that Raleigh is beginning to find very familiar between both Hansens, and tries not to find it too endearing.

 

“But you tried.” She’s talking about the years he’d spent in contact, checking in on Yancy, Jaz, and himself. Not a gesture someone who hadn’t cared would have bothered with.

 

“Best of luck, Marshall Hansen.” Herc returns the smile warmly; the weight on both of them is not completely gone, not yet, but Raleigh can feel the tension that’s always surrounded the two of them fade, slightly.

 

She turns to Chuck, who's still pointedly looking away from her. His mother tilts her head in the same way that Raleigh is certain his wolf does, and perhaps he's more his mother's son than he first thought, giving Chuck a calculated, pointed look.

 

“You. We need to get you out in Anchorage and out of this cramped dome and see what you can really do on four legs.” And then she leans close, having to stand on her tip toes to even be  _near_ Chuck's height; evidently it's still not even enough, because she has to grab him bodily by the fur ruff of his jacket and pull him down so she can whisper something in his ear. Alright, when  _Raleigh's_ not the one being disciplined, he has to admit, the image of his mother, who's barely 5'1 on a good day, manhandling people twice her size will never get old.

 

What she murmurs into Chuck's ear, however, has them both sputtering, Raleigh wailing “ _Mom, come ON.”_ while Chuck's face flushes and, oh, the tips of his ears are bright red. His mother throws a look at him, one brow raised while everyone else who  _doesn't_ have super crazy werewolf hearing just looks confused.

 

“It's true.” She pats Chuck on the shoulder in what is probably meant to be a well-meaning and comforting gesture, but it just causes him to blush harder. “I'm counting on you.” She says seriously, as if she's just given him a fucking mission. Raleigh just hides his face in his hands, thankful that anyone else with superior hearing is nowhere near the vicinity. Because, okay, that whole bit about missing his mother and all that? Complete fucking lie. He'd thought she was done  _ruining his life_ when he'd turned 21, but evidently he'd been very wrong in that regard.

 

“Please get on that chopper before you completely ruin my life.”

 

“I haven't said goodbye to everyone yet.” She retorts back, and he's certain if she weren't a grown ass woman and still had the reputation of Alpha to uphold, she would be sticking her tongue out at him. He just rolls his eyes as she leans down to give Max a wet kiss on his head, who returns the favor tenfold with more gusto than Raleigh finds proper, but then, wait, why does he even care,  _Max is a dog._

 

“You need to come visit me as well. I have three lovely little ladies at home who would be  _very_ excited to meet you, you handsome little man.” Max's excited barking and energetic tongue kisses seem to make everyone wonder if he  _actually_ understands her, but Raleigh knows better. They can't  _actually_ talk to dogs, but there's a definite connection between Weres and the species they take their shapes from.

 

It also really says something that the most heartfelt goodbye she gives is to the dog.

 

Herc leans over to him, one brow raised, “ 'Three lovely little ladies'?”

 

“A Husky, an Alaskan Malamute, and a Utonagan.” Raleigh responds, deadpan. “Mom, stop trying to set Max up with your dogs.” He'd never spent time with them as a human, but they'd been cheerful and accommodating to him as a wolf, treating him like a litter mate. Raleigh's overwhelmingly fond of them in the way that a person who's never actually had dogs is, but  _still,_ that's  _Max_ she's trying to pimp out to her own dogs.

 

He's not entirely sure which side he's more worried for, honestly. Still, he's seen pictures of Bulsky pups; they're pretty adorable-

 

Okay, that train of thought has to  _stop_ right there because there's no way he's getting involved in this.

 

“And I'm pretty sure Ray would love a little guy like him around.” She admonishes, nose held high, looking like some best in show posh poodle. He'd rather gnaw his own leg off than admit that aloud to her though, probably because she'd definitely make him do it.

 

Neither of them comment on the fact that the dogs, Yaya, Ray, and Jazzyare very obviously named after the Becket children, because that's too sad to think about for any given amount of time. Part of him thinks it's kind of very fucked up, but the other part of him remembers that he didn't exactly seem to care much when he ran into the woods and left her alone for five years.

 

Nonetheless, the last bit of goodbyes are exchanged (essentially his mother threatening everyone into visiting her at some point) and she pulls him down to lay a soft kiss on his forehead, and then she's on the chopper, which soon becomes a small dot in the distance. He gazes off after it in a bit of daze, a breath leaving him that he wasn't sure he'd been holding in. Herc claps him on the shoulder with his good hand, leaning over.

 

“So... what did she say to my boy there?” Raleigh nearly chokes on his tongue while Chuck pretends to definitely  _not_ be listening to what they're saying.

 

“Uhm...” At Herc's pressing look, Raleigh mutters something intelligible under his breath.

 

“What was that?”

 

“She said 'you are my only hope for grandchildren now'.” He forces out. Herc  _stares_ him incredulously, before his gaze lowers as if he's really seeing Raleigh for the first time; a look of sudden understanding passes over his face, as if everything is suddenly illuminated.

 

Wait. Shit. Herc  _knows._

 

While the horror dawns plain on his own face, Herc shakes his shoulder firmly with a bright grin on his face, an echo of his mom patting Chuck on the shoulder from earlier.

 

“Right, then, that goes ditto for me as well.” Chuck's choked “ _DAD!”_ justmakes the older man laugh, his hand leaving Raleigh's shoulder. The two young men exchange similar long suffering looks.

 

It's only fair, he imagines, for all the shit they must have put their parents through as children.

  
  
  


 

“So... are we going to do this or not?”

 

“Do what?” He says innocently, knowing full fucking well what Chuck means. The scowl on Chuck’s face tells him he’s not fooling anyone. They’re in his room, which is weird, because Chuck doesn’t  _need_ to follow him around anymore like a lost puppy, but he chooses to do so anyway.

 

“Have you gone daft or are you actually going to play dumb over this?”

 

“You were... not in the right mindset.” He turns his head away even as Chuck draws closer. He's not sure why he's even stalling at this point; he can smell Chuck's arousal just as Chuck can smell his own, but there's a part of him that pauses, still.

 

“I was  _definitely_ in the right mindset when I shifted back.”

 

“I wasn’t-”

 

“I slept next to you for two weeks.” More like slept  _on_ , but he doesn't say anything about that. It hadn’t mattered if Raleigh had been wolf or human for those impromptu cuddle sessions, either; Chuck was completely unrepentant if him and Max covered Raleigh in a literal dog pile.

 

“Like I said, first time shifts tend to scramble your emotions, you weren't thinking straight-”

 

“And you were?” The question echoes like a gunshot between them, and Raleigh imagines he looks like a child caught with his hands stuffed in the cookie jar. Chuck leans over to him, and he can feel hot breath by his ear, an involuntary shudder running up his spine at that.

 

“You called me 'pack', mate. Where does that leave us?”  _Pack_ could mean a lot of things, it could mean  _family, friends,_ or, yeah,  _mates._

 

“Mako's pack.” He tries to deflect, looking away, but it seems like Chuck isn't deterred.

 

“You don't want to fuck Mako, though.” Raleigh's head snaps up at that, a fire in his eyes.

 

“Is that what this is about? A quick fuck?” He doesn't know why  _that_ is what gets a heated response, but suddenly he's pushing the younger man back, using the small height he has on Chuck to his advantage. Not hard enough to actually hurt, but enough to show that he's not going to take this lying down. Raleigh isn't an alpha by most senses of the word, that birthright belonging to Yancy, but he can bite back if necessary.

 

He'd had a few one offs, a one night stand here and there, back before, but it had always left him unfulfilled, wanting more. It had taken a sit down with Yancy and a call to his mother before Raleigh had realized as to  _why._

 

The look in Chuck's eyes is positively feral, and there's a moment where Raleigh is almost afraid they'll come to blows, but it softens after a second.

 

“My mum wasn't a wolf, but I know the rules, as your mum was so kind to explain to me.” And here, he leans back into Raleigh's space, head bowed, not in subservience but understanding. His face is so close that Raleigh can feel the puffs of breath on his face, can just lose himself in the scent of needy Were.

 

The kiss isn't entirely unexpected, and truthfully, Raleigh's not sure why he doesn't push him away, because Chuck is still only  _21_ , has a whole life to live ahead of him, he shouldn't let this get too out hand-

 

And then Chuck softly bites at his bottom lip, and Raleigh has to fight to keep the moan that reverberates in his throat, the younger man's hand now curled at the nape of his neck. They don't stay connected for long, but Chuck's hand stays where it is, and when Raleigh doesn't push him away, bumps his forehead lightly to the older man's, a low sigh leaving him. The look Chuck’s giving him is making his heart beat faster than his legs can run.

 

“Wolves mate for life.”

 

God, when was the last time anyone touched him like this? Looked at him like this with such a painfully  _genuine_ look in their eyes?

 

“What do you want with a scruffy old wolf like me, anyway?” He whispers, as if saying the words will bring on the worst. As if Chuck is going to disappear, stolen by the sea like so many other things in Raleigh's life.

 

“You brought me back.” Chuck says softly, as sedated as Raleigh has seen him. There are a million other unsaid words Raleigh can hear in his voice, but those will have to remain unknown for now. He hopes he’ll have the opportunity to hear them in the future, but he probably shouldn’t be too optimistic about it.

 

“We don't have to do this for life, you won’t have to… commit.” If they don't complete the mating ceremony, there's a still a way for Chuck out of this. He wants to keep that option viable, because Chuck's young, he might get  _bored_ with him; Raleigh isn't exactly a prime catch anymore, his body scarred in ways that are foreign to their kind and his brain more mushy than it should be in places. Chuck, however... a young, studly Were of formidable size and strength? With that personality? In time, he’d make a grand Alpha for sure, though he’d probably piss off a lot of people along the way.

 

“We'll deal with that when we get there, old timer.” It's not that Weres always  _know_ when a pair is going to work out, but so far Raleigh has never met a  _divorced_ pair before, so that has to count for something, he hopes. “You're stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”

 

Not a marriage proposal by any means, but he can't stop the pleased crooning sound that comes from deep in his throat. Yance had always accused him of being a hopeless romantic sap, but, fuck, he figures they deserve at least this much, what with saving the world and all.

 

“Just what I always wanted, a yappy little pup following me around.” He drawls, and he can feel the grin on Chuck's lips, his face hidden in the crook of his neck.

 

“I'm bigger than you.” This is punctuated by his back hitting the wall, one of Chuck’s hands thumbing at the edges of his cable knit sweater, threatening to slide under and run across his abdomen.

 

“Only on four legs.” As humans, Raleigh still had an inch on him and a few pounds, but to be honest that still wasn’t that much of a difference, not when Chuck’s wolf absolutely dwarfed his own.

 

“I’ll have you on four legs later; right now, bed.” And, fuck, he can’t help it but he  _laughs_ way too hard at that, because if that was supposed to be sexy or lewd it  _failed_ hilariously. Either way, he’d totally fallen right into that one.

 

“If you promise to never say anything like that ever again, we can do whatever you want.”

 

The fucked up thing is that he means it.

  


 

The first time they fuck is not as rough or frantic as Raleigh thinks it would be. Not that he's spent a lot of time thinking about fucking Chuck Hansen, but, well. The initial scramble to Raleigh's tiny bed (still left broken off the wall and onto the floor, because fuck it, it’s just easier that way now) notwithstanding, it's surprisingly tender. At least, for two creatures that could rip a normal human to shreds.

 

The lube Chuck procures out of nowhere gets him an odd look, but Raleigh just gets a smarmy grin in response.

 

“Had to be prepared.” Shimmying out of his pants, he feels a hand slide down between his thighs, Chuck settling between them, an appreciative look in his eyes as he takes in the half-hard cock between them.

 

“I've always wondered about this, that you go commando.” At this, Chuck runs a calloused finger up the underside of his cock, and Raleigh has to fight the full body shudder that results from that.

 

“You learn pretty quick that things like bras and underwear are the first casualties during a shift. ” Comes the strained response as he eyes Chuck’s hand.

 

“And I'm sure you know all about that from first hand experience.” Smarmy little ass.

 

“I had a sister who was not shy about her complaints and every little thing that bothered her.” Chuck doesn't ask, and he doesn't extrapolate, because he doesn't want to talk about Jazmine right now, or Yancy, or anything else, he just wants. Fuck. He wants Chuck Hansen.

 

“You’ll learn the value in it soon enough.” Chuck’s hands are  _maddening,_ as if he wants to touch every single part of him, and it’s a sentiment that Raleigh wants to return  _badly_ , but Chuck is still exploring the area around his cock, tracing the light trail of hair that goes down from his belly-button.

 

“Been planning this for a while?” It’s said half jokingly, but there’s a determination in Chuck’s eyes that Raleigh doesn’t doubt. Chuck’s moved up to meet him in a scorching, slow kiss; really, Raleigh would have expected a complete fight for dominance but it seems that for once in his life, the younger pilot was content with taking things slow.

 

He is, however, expecting this to get a little rough, if the bruising grip Chuck has on his hips is any hint.

 

“I used to have posters of you on my wall.” Chuck says in between peppering kisses down his neck, then his torso, his fingers doing their best to explore every part of him, “Used to give my old man hell for knowing you and never introducing me, but I was a pretty scrawny little sprog back then.” It really says something that Chuck is admitting this out loud, and Raleigh wonders if it’s the arousal loosening his tongue or if he’s actually just feeling that generous at the moment.

 

“I’m sure you were an adorable little pup, even if you didn’t have a tail back then. And…” He gives one of Chuck’s arms an appreciative squeeze, “You’ve filled out rather nicely.” The shifting shouldn’t have caused an outward difference in his human form, but it seemed now like there was something…  _more_ to him, something that Raleigh was finding terribly tempting and delectable. Goddamn pheromones; not that he hadn’t been attracted to Chuck before, but now it was impossible to resist.

 

He just wants to  _touch_ everything, every part of Chuck that makes him whole, and it seems that Chuck wants the same thing, because he never lets the skin contact fade, even when he reaches over with one hand and squirts a generous amount of lube into his palm.

  


The sudden cold touch between his legs nearly has him yelping, Chuck's fingers slick with lube; first they slide down the length of his cock, before moving on to the tight ring of muscle below. His breath quickens in anticipation when Chuck slides in one finger, and then another, carefully.

 

“I’m not that fragile,” He huffs, and Chuck just smirks at him before adding a third, crooking his fingers  _just_ right and  _fuck-_

  
  


 

It’s when Chuck enters him, slowly, gently, even after an agonizingly long round of prep, that Raleigh gets frustrated, hooking his legs around Chuck’s back, clenching around him tightly when it causes Chuck to pull forward end up balls deep inside of him. He exhales slow, the fullness spreading him open, because yeah, okay, a lot of that prickish attitude and smugness were  _not_ compensation for anything, and Chuck rocks his hips, experimentally almost. They’re both breathing hard, and Raleigh’s hands find themselves around Chuck’s back, their lips a hair’s width apart.

 

“Tell me what you want.” Comes the breathy, barely composed comment, and it’s nice to know that he’s not the only one coming completely undone here, because that would just be embarrassing.

 

“Want you to fuck me, damnit.” He bucks back, trying to pull Chuck even closer to him.

 

“So impatient, old man.” He gets a chuckle for his efforts, and shudders again when Chuck rocks hard against him, leaning down and tracing the scars on his shoulder with his lips. It’s amazing how much self restraint Chuck is showing right now, but then,  _he_ didn’t spend five years in the middle of the woods, dealing with heat cycles alone and unfulfilled. And boy,  _that_ was going to fun to explain as well.

 

It doesn’t take long for Chuck’s steady rhythm to completely fucking wreck him, leaving him a panting mess as he pushes back and tries to fuck himself further on Chuck’s cock. One of Chuck’s hands reaches between them, grasping his own length and gripping it firmly, and Raleigh nearly comes right then and there just from that, and christ is  _that_ embarrassing.

 

“Been a while,  _Ra_ leigh?” Smart ass, he thinks, groaning loudly when Chuck fucks into him harder, while also losing some of the steady rhythm he’d built up.

 

“ _You_ spend five years in the wilderness and see what that does for your sex drive.” The snarky comeback is somewhat ruined by the absolute desperation in his voice, Chuck’s lips overtaking his and swallowing down the loud moan that comes from deep within him.

 

Chuck’s hips stutter, his thrusts losing their cadence as he pistons into him, and finally,  _finally,_ Raleigh feels him come undone, and it turns sloppy and  _great_ and  _fuck_ has he missed this, this feeling of fullness. One of his hands finds it’s way to the back of Chuck’s head, and he pulls him close, his breath coming out roughly and his voice husky with lust.

 

“Come on,  _Han_ sen.” It’s like a trigger going off, because Chuck surges forward then and nearly folds him in half on the mattress, fucking his fast and hard and it’s  _perfect,_ one hand still on his cock, another bruising on on his hip. That’s enough to push them both over the edge, and Raleigh can feel it, can feel Chuck filling him even more and getting even closer to him. The remains of his own orgasm lay on his stomach, and he just huffs a tired, breathless laugh when Chuck absently wipes at it with his fingers, making a further mess of the two of them.

 

He pulls out slowly, inciting a groan from Raleigh at the loss of contact, and only manages to half heartedly wipe away the mess on Raleigh’s stomach with a shirt that he’s 90% sure is one of his own before giving up and collapsing next to him.

 

“I'll do it later…” Comes the muffled response, and Raleigh just laughs again, ruffling the younger man’s mussed hair fondly.

 

  
  


It’s hours later that they’re lying in bed, still both sweaty, fucked out messes of human beings, that Raleigh finds himself wondering something that Chuck ends up voicing aloud.

 

“Where do we go after this, you think? I reckon the PPDC wouldn’t mind giving a plane ticket to wherever we want to go.” It’s said almost hesitantly, his voice muffled where he’s hidden himself at Raleigh’s back; there’s a small hint of what Raleigh thinks is  _hope_ in his voice.

 

Chuck’s currently playing at being the big spoon, his face hidden near the back of Raleigh’s neck while his hand idly strayed over his stomach. Hell, he’d be excited for another round within the hour, which is definitely not something he’s going to resist because  _hello, libido, I missed you._

 

The only reason Chuck says it, Raleigh thinks, is because the Shatterdome is nearing the end of it’s final clean up stages. They’re turning part of it into a museum and the other into a research center which K-Science is throwing literal parties over; both of these things are ridiculous and amazing, but it does pose the question of where the remaining Rangers would go.

 

The other thing, Raleigh realizes, is that he says  _we_ , and he doesn’t want to admit how much that excites him, how much it  _means_ to him.

 

He stares up at the ceiling, and there’s a beat of silence, then another, before he reaches over to where his jacket lie on the ground, rifling around in a pocket before pulling out his sought prize. It glimmers in the dull air, old and worn but still working, covered in minute scratches here and there as he hold the key up to the light.

 

Chuck eyes it curiously, a question on his lips, and Raleigh just looks over at him and smiles, fondly, leaning over and laying a soft kiss on the corner of Chuck’s mouth.

 

“I think I have a place where we could go.” He murmurs to him, and the grin on Chuck’s face matches the one on his own.

 

And they do go.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOPE THAT SMUT WASN'T TOO AWKWARD AND THAT EVERYONE ENJOYED THE SHOW. *hides*
> 
>  
> 
> I've got one last thing planned for this, and it's a very long, very fluffy, and very self indulgent epilogue. Be warned, however, that it's... definitely going into _technical_ mpreg/kidfic territory (take note of the tags up there), though I promise you it won't be graphic.
> 
> MAN ITS CRAZY HOW DID THIS THING BECOME LIKE 40,000 WORDS
> 
> As usual, come tumble with me [here](http://happyasaghost.tumblr.com/) and feel free to yell at me for how long this took


	8. Epilogue: Home is where you will be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, _oh my god _, It's finally here. 14K words of absolute nonsense (and now actual technical mpreg, but it's very non-graphic)__
> 
>    
> Edit: Good lord I am so displeased with what happened to all the italics in this chapter, ugh.
> 
> _  
> _ENJOY__  
> 

They don’t go straight to Anchorage, not right away.

 

There is a bevy of goodbyes to get through, from well-wishing from the Wei Tangs to firm, near bonecrushing hugs from the Kaidanovskys, and Raleigh makes quips about bleached blond haired children that only get him a sly smile in response from the Russians and a mock-horrified one from the Chinese triplets. But they part ways, and Raleigh watches them go fondly. Mostly because he can watch them go at all.

 

Chuck wants to visit Sydney, Mako wants to go to Paris, and Raleigh wants to go anywhere they go, so they split the difference and spend three months traveling. They do the tourist thing, purchase an exorbitant amount of knick knacks and souvenirs to send back to Herc and Kiche, and spend a good chunk of their nights doing what regular 20-somethings vacationing around the world would do

 

Mako leaves them during the last month, a quiet smile on her face as they board a plane to Anchorage. Raleigh engulfs her in a tight hug, and she returns the sentiment. Chuck is checking in their luggage, Mako eyeing him from where they stand.

 

“I’ll come visit soon.”

 

“You better. Let us know where you decide to stay, the house has a bunch of extra rooms. Might wanna wait till we get done with the clean up, though; no one’s lived there in years.”

 

They’ve saved the world, it seems only fair that they get a small vacation out of it.

  


 

 

 

 

 

The house stands silent and alone, a quiet structure in the distance.

 

“My mom never sold the place, but no one has really… been here since then.” Playing a silent watcher for five years notwithstanding, he’d never gone into the house until Herc had come to find him, key in hand. He’d never told the other man that, how strange it had been to sit in the kitchen again, years and years of memories once had there and now gone.

 

“Doesn’t look too bad off, from the way you described it I figured it’d be…” the phrase _like a mausoleum_ comes to mind, but Chuck can’t find it in himself to say it. Not when it would ring so true. “A little worse off.”

 

When they open the front door, the fine layer of dust coating everything disturbed only by the last time Herc had come lays unsettled. Before they’d gone into the Abyss, before they’d closed the breach. They drop off their meager belongings (Chuck has an actual suitcase for himself and a second one for Max’s things, while Raleigh has three sweaters and a stack of photos to his name) in the master bedroom and then do a little bit of exploring.

 

“Looks like we’re gonna have a bit of work to do.” Raleigh winces when they go around back to the garage, and, in an attempt to get the garage door open, end up denting it further. There’s already a huge dent in it from years previous where the Yancy had slid in the snow and had slammed into it, and they’d never gotten around to fixing it. Not when no one even went into the garage.

 

There were a lot of things, Raleigh thought, that needed to be be fixed, but he wondered if he could bring himself to take care of them. There were scratches on the tile near the front door where they’d always scrambled into the house as wolves, scratches on the kitchen table, and quite a bit of probable damage to his and Yancy’s old room. They’d never been very good at keeping the roughhousing outside, and it had taken Raleigh punching through a wall for their mother to throw her hands up in the hair and lock them outside for a week.

 

So many memories, so many things that only he could remember now. Jaz and Yance were gone, and he doubted his mother would ever come back unless to visit.

 

“There’s a truck in there, was thinking of trying to get her up and running.” He doesn’t say that it was his dad’s truck, that his mom hasn’t touched it since he’d died, and it’s literally been sitting here for twenty years, rusting away. Chuck would probably just take it as a challenge, so he leaves it at that.

 

The entire house has been, really, but now was their chance to fix it up. Make it a home again.

 

“Well…” Chuck eyes the old handle on the bottom of the garage door; it’s going to have to be replaced for sure, and he idly gives it a hard kick, trying to loosen one of the edges in an attempt to straight up remove it.

 

“Probably gonna have to replace the door, too. How’d this place get so rackshackle?”

 

“Well, no one has lived here, but even before then, uh…”

 

“You lot were little hellions, weren’t you.” Chuck smirks at him, and he has to duck his head to hide the heat in his cheeks. They hadn’t been _that_ terrible, but…

 

“We were _not_ that bad.” Chuck looks at him with disbelief in his eyes.

 

“There’s a _dent_ in the garage door, and there are claw marks all over the floor inside. I’m not even going to touch on the fact that nearly _all_ of the locks on the bedroom doors are broken.” Very obviously broken, too, and probably the only one still working was the one on the master bedroom door.

 

While they’d been brats to each other, none of them had ever dared lay a claw on their parents bedroom door. Not when the very real threat of getting flayed alive and then being locked outside were very real possibilities.

 

“That wasn’t me.” He says almost out of reflex. So much finger pointing at one another and it had gotten to the point where their mother had just assumed it was _all_ of their faults. Which, normally, was not too far from the truth.

 

Still, there’s a lot of work to be done, and when Chuck just gives him a small, genuine smile, his hand slipping into his own, Raleigh thinks they can definitely handle it together.

 

 

 

 

 

“So what’s the deal with that rust bucket in the garage?” Raleigh looks between the several paint samples he’d been given at the hardware store, and doesn’t see a fucking difference between any of them.

 

“It was my dad’s.” He answers absentmindedly. Chuck makes a small sound of assent, tossing a rag into the sink while looking out into the yard through the kitchen window. “Mom could never bear to get rid of it; lot of memories in that truck.” Yancy was probably _conceived_ in it, but Raleigh doesn’t want to think about that for very long.

 

“Yeah, well, it has a huge fucking dent in the front bumper, did any of you ever think to get that, you know, _replaced?_ I mean, what did he hit, a goddamn _moose?”_ Or something equally as big; the engine would have to be replaced as well, old age covering it in a fine coat of rust.

 

Raleigh looks up from the paint samples, having given up, and quirks an amused brow Chuck’s way.

 

“I never told you how my parents met, did I.” Chuck’s eyebrows do an amusing thing where they furrow in confusion before muted horror blooms on his face.

 

“You can’t be fucking serious.”

 

“It was a very dark and snowy night, in the middle of a blizzard-” He starts, like he’s telling a goddamn bedtime story.

 

“He _hit her with his truck?!”_ Raleigh makes a face at Chuck’s increasingly high pitched tone.

 

“She was fine afterwards.” He says, nonplussed.

 

As if that’s fucking normal.

 

“He _hit her with his truck.”_ Chuck repeats, as if Raleigh hadn’t heard him.

 

“Did your dad ever tell you how _your_ parents met?” Herc hadn’t, Chuck had never asked, and it had never been something that had come across in the drift, but that was besides the point.

 

“He didn’t _hit her with a goddamn car,_ if that’s what you’re asking.” There’s a moment of silence. “...did he?”

 

Raleigh just smiles, and settles on the tint that’s the closest to off-white. Which in the end, doesn’t matter, because he can’t honestly tell any of them apart.

  
  


 

 

“Do I even _want_ to know what happened to this bathroom door?” It’s a fair enough question, because the bathroom door is splintered at the lock, and the door doesn’t stay shut on it’s own anymore. Raleigh looks down the hallway at him, and Chuck’s eyes motion towards the splintered lock, an expectant look on his face. It’s not that the lock being _broken_ is the issue (because every fucking lock in the damn house is _broken,_ fucking werewolves with no sense of _decency)_ , it’s _how_ the lock is broken.

 

“Well?” He winces slightly at the memory as it comes back to him, a crooked smile on his face.

 

“Yance did something to piss off my sister and she, uh… she slammed him into it pretty bad.”

 

“ _What_ did he do?” Chuck looks at the lock incredulously, and pokes at it with one hand. The door creaks pathetically in response.

 

Raleigh scratches at the back of his head, trying to remember what had caused that particular bit of violence.

 

“I… think it had something to do with nail polish?”

 

And they just leave it at that.

  
  


 

 

Chuck finds him standing in his and Yancy’s old bedroom; he’d already packed up everything in Jazmine’s room, the meager few belongings that had been left behind. Packaged them up to send to mom, he thinks, because Raleigh’s not sure what to do with them aside from stare at them in despair.

 

“I haven’t been in here in probably… eight years.” He says quietly, staring at the twin beds in each corner. “I mean, we could have both had our owns room by then, there was the extra guest room, but…” They’d tried, once, when they’d gotten into an argument when Raleigh had been 13, but being near Yancy was so heavily ingrained into his mind that Jazmine had jokingly referred to them as being glued at hip. He’d still sneak into Yancy’s room and sleep on the floor and Yancy would do the same, and, yeah, that was probably kind of weird, but it wasn’t that weird for wolves to do such things.

 

Chuck just nods, bumping his shoulder lightly.

 

“You wanna leave it like this?” It’s a tempting thought, but also a very somber and somewhat grave one.

 

“No, no… we should clean this room too.” There’s an old scent here, faded but still noticeable to an extent; it had been the same with Jazmine’s room, their echoes left behind like silhouettes on concrete.

 

“I can still feel them here, sometimes.” He says quietly, “Like they just went out for a bit and will be back soon. Too many old memories, I think.” Chuck’s scent then surrounds him, strong arms wrapping around his shoulders as he’s pulled close into a solid embrace.

 

Chuck’s lips ghost to his temple, and a soft sigh escapes him as the words filter into his ears, letting his eyes fall closed and a soft small smile form on his mouth.

 

“Then we can create new ones.”

  
  


 

 

“How did you and mum meet? Please don’t tell me you hit her with a car.” It’s the first time he’s called his dad _first_ and Chuck can’t stop the question from tumbling out of his lips. He doesn’t want to admit to the desperation in his voice, a plea for _please, please, please, I can’t be as much as a freakshow as Raleigh._

 

“Car- _Chuck,_ what are you even talking about?”

 

“I’m just. Curious.”

 

“Well, I suppose, uh…”

 

And then his father launches into a long tale involving a camping trip with uncle Scott, and it zigzags for a bit before ending on his father chasing down and tackling the dingo that had been stealing their food.

 

“...and imagine my surprise when she shifted into a pretty little lass!”

 

“While you were still holding her down. And she was definitely naked.” He says flatly, not quite believing what he’s hearing.

 

“I… apologized. And let her go immediately.”

 

“And then you _asked her out_?”

 

“Actually, she asked me out.”

 

Chuck has nothing to say to that, and avoids looking at Raleigh’s smug face for the rest of day because he doesn’t want to admit that his family is just as fucking weird as the other man’s.

 

Whatever, at least he didn’t hit with her a fucking car.

 

 

  


It’s not like they never get into fights; if anything, the fights end up being over silly, trivial things rather than _you nearly toasted the entirety of LOCCENT._ It’s more like _I can’t believe you left the wet towels on the floor in the bathroom,_ or _remember to turn off the lights when we’re not home._ It’s somewhat disgustingly domestic, but Chuck can’t really complain, not when he wakes every morning with his face hidden in the crook of Raleigh’s neck.

 

Raleigh cooks, Chuck cleans, and they both attempt to start a garden in the old plot that Raleigh had torn up as a pup but they’re pathetically terrible at it, and that’s okay. The years go by, and they’re okay, they’re okay.

 

Even then, there’s still some adjusting to be had. Chuck takes to being a wolf like a duck to water, and while he’s come out on top better than most would in his situation, there are still nights where he wakes up, sweating and panting and remembering being trapped in a cage of steel that was at the same time the only thing keeping him alive. He remembers the phantom feeling of limbs being taken _away_ and then spontaneously growing back, he remembers a firm grip on his hand, a voice bringing him back to himself when he would have been otherwise lost.

 

Raleigh is there, so Chuck is there, and he knows what his grounding force is.

 

It only figures then, Chuck thinks, that their first big fight doesn’t happen like a knock down drag out, but rather a quiet sort of thing. Something that’s been building for a while, something he’s barely noticed, especially in the past six months. They’ve done okay here for two and half years now, he can’t imagine why that would _change_ suddenly.

 

He doesn’t even know what sets it off, he doesn’t _know_ , but one moment him and Raleigh are looking at each other, hackles raised, and another, Raleigh’s out the door, shucking off his sweater and bounding off into the woods in the distance. A wordless _Don’t you follow me, Hansen_ reverberates through his skull, the words unsaid but the meaning is obviously apparent. Max whines, sadly, after him, but doesn’t dare step out into the white powder.

 

Chuck stares out the door, his eyes taking in the lightly falling snow, and guilt grips his heart like a cage.

  
  
  


 

“I fucked up.” He says with no context, the moment Mako picks up on the other end.

 

“ _That’s an amazingly mature observation of you to make, Chuck.”_ He scowls, biting at his lip and looking out the window into the waning light. Raleigh’s only been gone an hour, and while the other man doesn’t have the hair trigger temper that Chuck knows he himself is guilty of, Chuck knows he can hold out for a while outside.

 

After all, he lived for five fucking years in the woods. What’s one night out there compared to that? It doesn’t stop the worrisome vibe from crawling up his spine, not knowing where his mate is.

 

“We got into a fight and he ran off into the woods.” He wants to follow, but Raleigh knows the land better than he does, always has, and he knows how to hide his scent and stay downwind and all that other shit that he can use to avoid him.

 

“ _Chuck, despite what you may think, I am not an endless dispensary of knowledge for you to go to when you say something stupid.”_ He sighs, loudly, and he can hear Mako shuffled with something on the other end. Probably papers for the new Shatterdome in Sydney; Raleigh had never _officially_ been reinstated as a Ranger so he’d essentially been free to go, but Chuck and Mako were still tethered to the organization, least of all because Herc was the Marshall now. Chuck would have to leave in the coming weeks anyway to oversee bits and parts of the construction, and the timing… was not perfect.

 

He hated having to leave for a week here and there to go off _official business_ that Raleigh was no longer privy to, having to kiss ass for all the suits at the UN, but it was a necessary evil, especially with him now as a _Were Ambassador._ It was just a fancy title, his father had explained, because most of the PPDC didn’t know what to do when Were’s had started coming out of the woodwork after Chuck’s status had been made known.

 

He didn’t want to take off with Raleigh upset with him. He didn’t think the other man could hold a grudge for _that_ long, but…

 

“I think I really put my foot in it this time.”

 

“ _As opposed to all those other times.”_

 

“ _Mako.”_

 

“ _Chuck.”_

 

He makes a frustrated sound then, wiping his hand across his face.

 

“ _Have you thought about apologizing?”_

 

“ _Of course_ I have, but I’m not even sure what we’re fighting about. I know I said some stupid things but… he’s been on edge lately, I don’t know what set him off.” He’s being truthful here, because the fight could have been caused by a number of things; Chuck’s regular asshole nature notwithstanding, Raleigh was probably one of the most patient people he’d ever known.

 

“ _Raleigh is not the type to let his emotions get the best of him, this is true. I will not ask, because I know that you two can fight about the simplest of things, but maybe try to find out why he’s upset. It might not just be the words you said today.”_ It might not be, and he’s beginning to suspect that it _isn’t,_ but he doesn’t voice this aloud.

 

They exchange a few more words here and there, mostly about how she is not here to be their _marriage counselor_ , but Chuck’s mind isn’t in it, and before bidding him goodbye, she wishes him luck. He figures he’s going to need it.

  
  
  


 

 

It’s another hour before the phone rings again, right as he’s deciding what to do and whether or not to go out into the snow after Raleigh.

 

“ _Heard you really put your foot in it this time.”_ Is the first thing he hears, and he groans, because having his _dad_ point that out is not on the top of the list of things he wanted to hear today.

 

“Does Mako tell you every single fucking thing or are you just calling to remind me of my shortcomings?”

 

“ _Look, I know you tend to put your foot in your mouth often, but before you run off to apologize, you should probably… think about what you said.”_ That’s _rich_ , coming from his dad. Chuck just scowls over the phone, a curse already forming on his lips.

 

“I don’t even _know_ what we’re fighting over, old man.”

 

“ _You didn’t forget his birthday, did you?”_

 

“His birthday isn’t until December. And I don’t even think _he_ remembers his own birthday.” Which, last year, he definitely hadn’t, so the surprise had been very easy to pull off.

 

“ _Aren’t you going to be_ here  _then?”_ And not with Raleigh, though he could always come with, but…

 

Chuck doesn’t say anything, and his eyes fall on the calendar on the wall, and he realizes, _fuck, fuck, fuck._ He _hates_ traveling to do with for the PPDC and leaving Raleigh behind; it’s not that the other man _can’t come_ but at the same time it’s just not always feasible.

 

“ _Chuck… I know you’ve never really had a way with words-”_

 

“ _Raleigh_ is the one who spent five years _not talking_ in the middle of the forest, and you say _I_ don’t have a way with words?”

 

“ _Can’t a father be worried about his son-in-law?”_ Rather than his fucking _son._

 

“We’re not _married.”_ Not officially, at least.

 

“ _As far as it’s been explained to me, yes, you apparently_ are  _married.”_

 

And maybe, he realizes with a jolt, therein lies the crux of the problem.

  
  
  
  


 

 

The damn phone rings one last time, and he debates letting it run to the answering machine, but, after a moment of deliberation, picks it up.

 

“ _So apparently you made my son cry and run off into the forest.”_ Oh, _christ._

 

“ _What_ is it _with_ you people? Do you all have a fucking club where you go and gossip about my personal life?” How did she even _find out?_

 

“ _Well, maybe you should stop being a source of amusement for the rest of us, then.”_ At least she admits it, he thinks viciously.

 

“Look, unless you have something _helpful_ to say, I’m hanging up and going out to find my mate.” There’s a soft bit of laughter coming through the speakers.

 

“ _You love my son, don’t you?”_ That throws him off for a moment.

 

“Y-yes, of course.”

 

“ _Have you ever told him that?”_ The question reverberates through his skull like a ricocheting bullet, and he stops.

 

“ _I know, it seems like a massive oversight but with us… it’s easy to forget how much words matter. Raleigh went five years without speaking, and he didn’t even shift into human form until he was two years old.”_ Chuck knows this, has heard all manner of embarrassing stories from her, but it seems more poignant now.

 

“I…”

 

“ _You were probably fighting over something silly, weren’t you?”_ He stays silent, not wanting to confirm or deny, but she continues anyway.

 

“ _I probably don’t need to tell you to go after him. Say what you need to say. We’ve never been very good at communicating with words. I don’t think you’re doomed, honey.”_

 

He can hear something in her voice that sounds suspiciously like guilt, but he just nods, feeling silly when he realizes that she can’t even see it.

 

“ _It’s later than I expected, but I suppose it’s not too odd for a late cycle.”_

 

“ _What_ are you talking about?”

 

“ _Just an old woman musing to herself. Raleigh usually gets moody this time of year. I’d be careful once you find him.”_ Chuck tries to remember what he’d been doing this time last year, and realizes that he’d been away that week, sometime during October, a tiny seed of guilt suddenly worming it’s way into his heart. Was it because he’d been leaving to do PPDC work?

 

“He’s not going to _attack_ me, I’m trying to _apologize.”_

 

“ _Oh, I’m sure.”_ There’s a pause on the other end for a moment, “ _It’s a full moon tonight, isn’t it?”_ She murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like _How perfect_ but Chuck ignores it.

 

“Look, I’m hanging up now-”

 

“ _Don’t get too frisky out there!”_

 

“GOODBYE.”

  
  
  


 

 

 

It takes a good few hours, especially since he’s doing it on foot rather than paw, but he manages to catch Raleigh’s scent a little ways off from where he’d parked the truck at the edge of the woods. It smells different than usual, a mixture of _worry_ and something else that Chuck can’t place.

 

He knows Raleigh can smell him, can pick out his own _worry_ , _anxiety_ , and bone deep _relief,_ coupled with _thank god I found you, you stupid wanker._ He can see the familiar mop of blond hair past a rotten log, and the small bit of movement shakes loose the bits of snow that had collected atop the crest of his hair.

 

Raleigh looks… he looks _okay,_ but there’s something in his body language that keeps Chuck from running up to him and kissing him senseless. Christ, he thinks, when did he turn into such a goddamn _sap?_

 

(Probably around the time he woke up one morning, mind still fuzzy with sleep, to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes and the thought of _I love this man,_ held deep in his heart _.)_

 

“Hey.” He tosses out, feeling suddenly very sheepish, because he hasn’t really put a lot of _thought_ into what to say.

 

“...hey.”

 

“Look, Rals-” He starts, but Raleigh cuts him off

 

“You don’t have to say anything, Chuck.” He makes a frustrated sound because now is _not_ the time for Raleigh to be an understanding dipshit.

 

“ _No,_ you big dumb  _idiot_ , _I do.”_ Raleigh makes an odd face at him, and Chuck takes a moment to realize that he’s fucking _naked._ He pulls off his jacket and tosses it around the other man’s shoulders before Raleigh can protest, and their faces are close enough now where Chuck can feel his breath, but he doesn’t dare do anything else, his hands still gripping the collar of the jacket. His modesty had truly died when he nearly had, back then, but that doesn’t mean Raleigh has any business running around the woods _bare arse naked_ (he could get _frostbite,_ jesus christ).

 

“Look, I know… I know I’m an asshole.”

 

Raleigh just gives him a _look,_ one brow raised _._

 

“I’m a really big asshole.” He reiterates, “And a jerk, and I say really terrible things that I don’t always mean but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re _terrible.”_ He pauses, thinking over what he’s actually just said, “That’s not new or anything you didn’t already know.” Raleigh snorts in amusement at that. “I’m sorry.” It’s fairly pathetic as far as apologies go, but maybe it works, because there’s something on Raleigh’s face that changes then, softens, just slightly.

 

“You… you have the right to be angry with me. You don’t have to be so _self-sacrificing,_ you’re allowed to be fucking selfish sometimes.” He bites out, his grip on the collar of his jacket tightening.

 

The older man sighs, and Chuck wonders if the time outside cooled him off, because the tension seems to bleed out of him visibly then.

 

“It’s not… it’s not completely your fault. I’ve never been very good at… saying when something is wrong, I guess.” One of Chuck’s hands finds it’s way to the back of his neck, a familiar, comforting gesture, and Raleigh leans in close to his touch.

 

“You feeling your age there, Rals?” There’s no heat in it, not even the usual sardonic tone that Chuck slings around like snowballs, but the slightly crestfallen look on Raleigh’s face tells him another story.

 

“Afraid you’re not gonna be able to keep up with me?” Raleigh makes some dispirited sound then, and Chuck smiles fondly then. It’s not a look that crosses his face often, but after living with Raleigh for two years, it’s something that happens more and more.

 

“It’s stupid, I just, the age difference never bothered me before-” His assumption that it had _something_ to do with the older man’s age, it seemed, was correct, but there was still some other niggling doubt in the back of his mind.

 

“I’m not going to leave. I meant what I said back then. You’re stuck with me, Rals.” Raleigh sucks in a deep breath then, and he ducks his head in a way that Chuck has always found terribly endearing. “You’re my mate, and that makes me yours, too.” He’s being sappy and he knows it, but he can’t hide the grin on his lips when Raleigh’s cheeks heat up, though that could just be the cold finally getting to him, mutant native he might be.

 

“We’re both idiots, aren’t we.” He sighs deeply. There’s a part of him that realizes he’s been let off the hook very easily, that Raleigh shouldn’t always be so… so damn self-sacrificing.

 

“I guess. Probably.”

 

“Doesn’t matter, _Ra_ leigh.” He grips the sides of Raleigh’s head, pulling him close enough to lay a warm kiss on his cold lips. “I love you anyway.”

 

Chuck doesn’t really expect the full body tackle turned make out session that results from that, when Raleigh suddenly wraps his arms around him like a goddamn barnacle and the two of them end up falling down into the snow. Were body heat be _damned_ , it’s fucking _freezing,_ and that proves to be as effective as a cold shower.

 

“How are you not _freezing_ your arse off, this is _ridiculous_ ,” Raleigh laughs, their noses touching, and this is so _stupid_ because he’s still fucking _naked._ They lie there for a bit, the older man leaching Chuck’s precious body heat as he hides his face in the crook of Chuck’s neck, laying a soft kiss there.

 

“How have I gone two fucking years without ever telling you I loved you?” He murmurs, more to himself than to Raleigh, and the other man just laughs again; it’s a pleasant sound, from deep within him, childish and happy in a way that Chuck thinks he himself can never be.

 

“You’re a little emotionally constipated; don’t worry, I never held it against you.” Chuck snorts at that, and lets the other man run his fingers through his hair. It’s amazing, he thinks, how much they can simultaneously infuriate one another but then calm each other down the next moment.

 

“As a wolf, I knew. But I’m not gonna lie, it feels _very_ nice to hear you say it out loud.”

 

But being around Raleigh makes him feel so _good._ The man in question, it seems, would not mind staying out in the goddamn snow all night, arse naked, but moments later the barest of shivers dance across his skin, and the two of the sit up, looking up at the sky.

 

“Want to go for a run?” Raleigh looks up at the full moon, and a warm smile crosses his lips.

 

“Bit stereotypical, don’t you think?”

 

“Maybe.” He stands up, stretching out languidly; Chuck’s eyes follow the curve of his spine and the way his muscles flex under his skin, and he can’t pull them away, not even when Raleigh turns to him and offers a grin his way, suddenly playful.

 

“Come on, don’t think you can _keep up_ with me? Catch me.” And then a white wolf takes his place, a lupine grin gracing it’s face. Despite how they work now, Chuck can never think of the wolf as _she_ or anything _separate;_ he, she, doesn’t matter, it’s _Raleigh._

 

There’s a playfulness in the way the other wolf moves, the way his tail sticks up, and Chuck makes a short task of removing his clothes and shifting immediately. He’s probably going to regret leaving his clothes out in the snow, but he figures it’s worth it right now. The sweet scent returns, and he finds himself imperceptibly drawn when Raleigh bounds off, taking two steps away for every one step that Chuck takes closer.

 

Raleigh yips at him, darting forward and nipping at his side before taking off out of reach again. There’s a coy look on his face that Chuck doesn’t want to spend the time dissecting, but it’s welcoming, beckoning him closer.

 

His tail wags embarrassingly like a dog’s, and he gives chase.

  
  


 

 

It’s not that Chuck wants to leave; in fact, it’s the fucking opposite, especially now.

 

“You gonna be okay?” He doesn’t mention that Raleigh’s been feeling slightly under the weather, even though the other man has been trying to hide it.

 

“I’ll be fine. My mom’s coming over tomorrow, she wants to,” Raleigh makes some odd, incomprehensible face there, using air quotes even, “Talk about certain _things.”_

 

Chuck wrinkles his nose. “What does that even _mean?”_

 

“I think she’s gonna rag on me for not letting her steal Max.”

 

“Your mother is not allowed to pimp out my dog. I’m leaving him here to keep _you_ company, not be a bed warmer for those harlots of hers.”

 

“I doubt Max would mind very much.”

 

Chuck leans in for a quick kiss, and he’s struck by how _domestic_ it all feels. If he were someone looking in, he’d probably be disgusted about how sappy they are together, but, fuck it. Raleigh smells so fucking _good_ right now, he just wants to stay wrapped up in his warmth, stay with _family._ Ever since that fucking night in the goddamn woods, Raleigh has been fucking _intoxicating_ to him, and while it’s confusing, it’s not as if he’s going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

“I think,” He starts, nipping at Raleigh’s ear, “You should come with me. Find out whatever your mum wants, and meet up with me in Sydney. Gonna be the New Year soon, you know.” And the anniversary of them closing the breach, but, well.

 

“That’s in three months.” Chuck can feel the laughter building in his throat, and he gets a quick kiss back for his troubles. “I’ll try.” One of Chuck’s hands slide under his shirt, fingers running down his sides; he’s slimmer now, and doesn’t have that same weight advantage on Chuck anymore, something the younger man takes quite a bit of joy in.

 

“Down boy.” Raleigh teases, catching Chuck’s other hand with his own.

 

“Christ, do you have any idea how fucking _good_ you smell right now-”

 

They don’t quite make it to the door, and Chuck nearly misses his flight, but he figures if he gets even a few hours more with his mate, it’s worth it.

  


 

 

Chuck is gone for all of 24 hours by the time Raleigh’s mother knocks on the front door, her three dogs standing obediently behind her. Max nearly loses his fucking mind, way too happy with the three lady dogs that swarm him happily.

 

Raleigh just eyes his mother with pure exasperation as the pack of dogs around the two of them yip in glee.

 

When Kiche freezes in the middle of her greeting, however, nostrils flared, he feels a slight shudder go down his spine; he’s not _unused_ to his mother’s hard stare, but this feels… different, somehow.

 

And then she fucking _squeals_ and grabs his face, pulling him down and peppering kissing on his forehead and cheeks.

 

“Oh my god-” His mother hadn’t even been this excited after they’d seen each other face to face after they’d closed the fucking _breach,_ what was she on about now?

 

“Mom, what-”

 

“I’m so glad you decided to start now, you don’t want to get too old-”

 

“-are you-”

 

“-Do you have any names picked out yet? You know you should probably shift soon so there are no complications-” Does she not need to _breathe._

 

“-talking about-”

 

“I’m just so _happy!”_

 

“ _MOM.”_ That gets her to stop.

 

The two of them stare at each other for a moment, and even the dogs have stopped in their play to join in on it. Raleigh imagines they all look fucking ridiculous, two people and four dogs all just staring at one another on the front porch.

 

“You didn’t… know?”

 

“Don’t know _what.”_

 

The look on his mother’s face suddenly becomes worrisome, shifting from sheer excitement to slow realization.

 

“Oh, _honey_.” And then he understands, too, realization slamming into him like a freight train. Chuck’s aversion to leave, more so than usual, _you smell so fucking good right now,_ the odd twinges of sickness that had been darting at the edge of his awareness, they’d fucking spent _that night two weeks ago in the woods doing_ -

 

“Oh, _no_.”

 

He is going to be in _so much trouble._

  


 

 

“Congratulations.” Herc sighs, a long suffering sound that all of them have grown used to hearing over the past years as he wipes a hand over his face, as if he’s been mentally preparing himself for this.

 

“I _told_ Chuck he should get Max fixed; can’t be helped now, I suppose... which one of your girls did he get to-”

 

“I’m not talking about Max, Herc.” There’s a sad whining sound off screen, and for a moment, Herc thinks she’s talking to one of the dogs, before she turns to them and replies with “ _This is your fault and I should just let you stew there. How could you not_ remember  _to tell him?”._

 

“Wait a- where’s Raleigh? Is he okay?” She gives him a flat look before pulling said white wolf from off screen, hand gripping the scruff of his neck. He looks _guilty_ , or at least, as guilty as a wolf can look. Which, apparently, is pretty damn guilty.

 

There’s a suspicious feeling worming it’s way down his spine then, as Raleigh makes an ashamed whimpering sound and gets another dirty look from his mother.

 

“He can’t shift back right now. And he won’t, _shouldn’t,”_ She tosses the wolf a meaningful look, who simply cringes out of view offscreen before she pulls him back, “shift back until… two months from now.”

 

“Two months? _Why?”_

 

“Well, werewolf gestation periods are much shorter than human ones, you know.”

 

Now, it’s not that Herc has never considered this possibility. He knows enough about Weres and their bizarro biology to not really be _surprised_ anymore. But the way she blandly says it nearly has him falling out of his chair.

 

“You can tell Chuck, since _mama_ over here can’t talk for the next two months.” She shoots her son one last scathing look, before a soft, genuine smile crosses her faces when she looks back at him. “In the mean time, congratulations, you’re going to be a grandfather.”

 

There’s a spark of something in his chest, happiness or elation, he doesn’t know, but before he can find reprieve in the feeling, _grandfather,_ he realizes that he’s going to have to break the news to Chuck, who is _already_ in a terrible mood.

 

Herc suddenly hates his life.

 

 

  


“Chuck.” He clears his throat, motioning over to Chuck after managing to catch his son in a hallway leading down to the Sydney Dome’s version of LOCCENT.

 

“Yeah?” Chuck gives him a weird look, one that Herc has come to realize is his _oh, god, please don’t let us talk about feelings_ face.

 

Oh, fuck, how is he even going to _begin._

 

“You know how… between a shift… the parts don’t alway… match?”

 

“Dad, is this about the faulty machine parts we got? We’ve already put in a requisition form for the right ones.” Evidently he’s not making his case clear enough.

 

“The…” God, he feels so foolish right now, “When you shift into a wolf. The parts. Your parts.” He points downward, and Chuck just looks at him as if he’s lost his fucking mind. Maybe he has. Herc hasn’t even had the chance to _enjoy_ the idea of suddenly becoming a grandfather, something that, before Chuck had become so set on making Raleigh his mate, he’d long given up for years. Especially back when the idea of being able to actually _close_ the breach and live _past_ it were once pipedreams of the 9th degree.

 

“Uh… Yeah, sure. I can assure you that _my parts_ match.” Chuck nods, slowly, still not quite understanding what the hell he’s playing at.

 

“Well, not… not everyone’s do. Like Raleigh’s.”

 

“Dad, I think that I am _intimately_ more familiar with _Raleigh’s parts_ than you would be.” The smug, self satisfied look he gets with that is something Herc doesn’t _want_ to think about; they’d never had _the talk_ , something which had gone out the window when they’d first drifted and Chuck had _seen_ it through their shared memories. After that particularly traumatizing experience, he’d figured it was never… _necessary_ to go through with talk, aside from tossing a pack of condoms at him once it had become apparent where his preferences lied. Chuck had, after all, _experienced_ it second hand, which was something both of them had resolved to never talk about _ever._

 

Not being within constant close proximity with one another, he was somewhat loathe to admit, had definitely helped as well, but there were still times where Herc found that he and his son just didn’t see eye to eye. This perhaps being a somewhat literal version of that.

 

“Blokes can’t get pregnant.” He blurts out, getting another raised eyebrow in response.

 

“I don’t see why-”

 

“RALEIGH. Can. He can. And. He is. Congratulations, you’re going to be a dad.” He nods jerkily, Chuck’s mouth dropping open as if to say something but nothing comes out, “I’m. Going back to my office.” He does an about face and gets maybe ten steps away before Chuck very loudly exclaims behind him.

 

“ _Dad, what the fuck.”_

  


 

 

It takes the combined forces of Herc, Tendo, and Mako’s threatening glare to keep Chuck from hopping on the first plane back to Alaska, because there is still very important work to be done and _Look, I know you’re worried, Chuck, but Raleigh will be fine._

 

“Look at it this way,” Herc starts, used to Chuck’s glowering at him, “The sprog will be out in just two months, just in time for the new year.” Not exactly  _just_ in time, more like a good month before, but  _still._

 

“And Raleigh’s _birthday.”_

 

“You could say that you’ve given him quite the _birth day_ present.” Tendo snarks from behind him, and the glare Chuck sends at him can only be described as sub-arctic. Tendo just smiles serenely back at him, apparently not fearing death by glare.

 

“The timing’s not bad, either. He’s turning 28 this year? Good time to start having little tykes.”

 

“At least you won’t be _too old_ to play gramps, old man.” Chuck grouses back, still petulant over not being able to leave. Neither of them mention that Herc had been even younger than Chuck was now when he’d been born.

 

Even Mako tries to calm him, though the effects are somewhat polarizing regardless.

 

“It’s not as if you could have used protection, anyway.” She says it somewhat sarcastically, though there is some merit in her words. The thought of wolves attempting _safe sex_ is a thought both utterly terrifying and hilarious, and definitely not something Chuck thought he’d try to imagine when he’d… experienced it.

 

Ugh. This is not something he wants to be discussing with _anyone,_ least of all his dad and _Tendo._

 

“Wait a minute, Raleigh’s heat cycle is usually late September,” Chuck doesn’t even want to know how Tendo _knows this,_ and his face suddenly has a very amused, if not downright gleeful expression on it, “You two totally knocked boots as wolves!” He crows.

 

“What, you thought that Chuck could get Raleigh pregnant just through sheer dumb luck?” Mako adds, unhelpfully, while also shooting a sly grin at him.

 

“I wasn’t aware you two were into that sort of thing, Chuckles. Is the whole thing about knotting true-”

 

Mako has the foresight to be near the door and halfway out of the room by the time the words leave Tendo’s lips, which is right about when Chuck’s already fragile patience just about snaps.

 

Herc is somewhat impressed at how quickly Tendo and Mako manage to vacate the room when Chuck leaps over the table to get at them. He can hear Chuck yelling after them as he scrambles over the table and down the hall, their laughter echoing through his ears. He just sighs, taking in all the papers and documents littering the floor after Chuck had flipped the damn table. But there’s a small smile on his face, warmth in his heart; there’ll have to be some adjustments made for the little kit once they arrive.

 

Children, the lot of them.

  
  


 

 

Two months is a miserably long time to not see his mate, Chuck thinks morosely.

 

“Cheer up, dude, it’s already been three weeks!” Newt is apparently doing his best to lighten the mood, but quite frankly, until Chuck can hold Raleigh again in his arms, he’s not budging on the matter.

 

“I should be _there.”_

 

“Look, Hermann had those same feelings when Vanessa was about to pop, and look at where they are now!”

 

“Yeah, with their _baby.”_ Newt backpedals then, waving his hands in the air like a monkey trying to grab a banana. Which, okay, isn’t a too far off comparison.

 

“Raleigh’s gonna _fine,_ and that kid, puppy? Whatever, your spawn is gonna be _adorable,_ even with you as its dad.” Chuck’s face twists into a harsher scowl as he rounds on the smaller man.

 

“And just what is _that_ supposed to mean, kaiju bait?”

  


 

 

Probably the only thing keeping Chuck from losing his fucking mind is when his father throws his hands up in the air and sits him down in front of a tablet, before it boots up and a sleepy wolf shows up on the other end. He can hear Kiche mutter something on the other end, before Raleigh’s eye jump open to awareness, staring intently back at him.

 

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything (because it’s not like _Raleigh_ can right now, anyway), before clearing his throat.

 

“So… puppy, huh?” Raleigh’s lupine face has become something which Chuck can dissect fairly well, even without his sense of smell assisting him. He looks embarrassed, hiding his snout beneath one paw in a way that he finds horribly endearing.

 

“I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised, I always knew the possibility was there…” He doesn’t sound reproachful, however, which seems to pull Raleigh out of the self imposed shame he’d thrown himself under.

 

“I… Don’t think I’ll be back in time before you pop the sprog out.” He can’t help but duck his head down when he says it, though he can hear Raleigh make a dismissive snort. Understanding, then, he thinks when their eyes meet again. They sit in silence for a little bit longer, the sound of Raleigh’s breathing a soothing rhythm to his ears.

 

“But I promise that I’ll be there after.” He can’t help but hide the bit of excitement and wonder in his voice, and Raleigh tilts his head, tongue lolling out.

 

Raleigh pulls his head forward and taps the screen with his nose, leaving a smudge, and it takes Chuck a moment to realize what he’s done, a grin forming on his face.

 

“I’m not going to kiss the damn tablet screen, you sap.” That doesn’t stop him from letting his fingers rest on the screen in the approximation of where Raleigh had touched his snout to, and brings it to his lips.

 

The two of them end up passing the rest of the evenings for the entirety of the last three weeks doing much of the same. Raleigh can’t say anything, but he’s expressive enough for Chuck to talk at and wait for a reaction from.

 

(At the end of every call, Chuck says _I love you_ , and the look on his face, in his eyes, is always so genuine and earnest that it hurts Raleigh, and all he can thinks is, _I love this man more than anything else in the world,_ wishing he could say the words out loud _.)_

 

It’s enough.

  
  
  
  


There’s a part of him, a piece that he’s hidden deep within himself, ever since Chuck came blustering into his life, that worries. He worries in a way that he can’t explain, that’s bone deep and something that has remained with him ever since he’d made the decision to step into the woods for five years.

 

They’d saved the world over two years ago. Chuck had stepped into a Jaeger when he was 15, had been killing Kaiju longer than he’d been in a meaningful relationship with anyone else. He’d never had the chance to be a kid, had been forced into the shoes of a soldier, a Ranger; he’d chosen that path, and he’d been damn good at it, too. The cockiness hadn’t just been pure hubris; you didn’t become a ranger through dumb fucking luck.

 

It’s not that Raleigh is afraid that Chuck isn’t going to love the hell out of this kid (something, _someone_ that is equal parts both of them, how crazy is that?), but it feels almost unfair to throw this on him. They should have been more careful, more _aware,_ but at the same time, he can’t hide the giddiness in him at the thought of _a little someone who is part of you, a part of me._

 

He has his doubts, but he thinks they’ll be okay.

 

They’re going to have a tiny, wriggling little pup, and they’re going to be okay.

  


 

 

When the day finally comes, Raleigh is sure of two things.

 

One, it fucking hurts.

 

Two, he is absolutely never doing this _ever again._

 

He’d shifted back fairly soon after it was… done, and he’s laying on the bed, fucking destroyed and completely exhausted. His stomach feels achingly _empty,_ but the thought is pushed out of his head when his mother brings over the bundle of blankets she’d been cooing over after he’d all but passed out.

 

“Here she is, mama.” He doesn’t even have the energy to complain at that, and just turns towards the bundle she’s laid down on the bed next to him.

 

And, _oh_.

 

The first thing he notices is that she’s tiny, at least in comparison to what he’s used to as a wolf. Everything about her is little; her tiny nose and her little paws and even when she opens her mouth in a wide yawn it seems absolutely miniscule.

 

“She’s not that small, you know.” His mother responds when he voices his thoughts aloud, one shaky finger gently stroking the top of his daughter’s - _daughter, fuck-_ tiny head. Her eyes are still shut, and, like actual wolves, born blind and deaf, but she’ll be opening them in the next several weeks, he thinks.

 

“If anything, she’s rather big. Probably got that from Chuck; you were maybe half that size when you were born.” His mother sounds way too smug about that, and, when he looks again, he realizes that she’s right. Maybe seeing her covered by the blanket had skewed his perception of her; part of him internally cringes at her size at the second glance, no wonder he feels like he’d gone toe to toe with a kaiju. It’s as if her singular features are _small_ , but overall she’s larger than, what, average?

 

He wonders if her eyes will be blue, and what color her coat will be, and, just, goddamn it, she’s perfect. It’s impossible to tell if her coat will end up more like his or Chuck’s, but honestly, Raleigh doesn’t really care about that, though he knows Chuck will be smug to the end of his day’s if she turns reddish-brown. Looking like _daddy_ more than _mommy_ would do wonders for his already considerable ego _._

 

“I’m gonna give Herc a vid-call in a bit. Think you’d be up to showing her off?” His thoughts are interrupted when his mother poses the question, and he has to spend a moment thinking about it, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s sleeping face.

 

“Give me a few hours with her.” She smiles, nodding her head, before he speaks up again.

 

“Chuck and I… we… we never really talked about this, about names or anything…” He trails off, suddenly feeling foolish.

 

“You don’t have to decide just yet, you know.” She gives him a meaningful look, and he winces at the implication. “But it seems like you already had a name in mind.”

 

“....Angela for her first name. I thought about… Nancy. But she just…” She nods in understanding, leaning down to bump her nose against his forehead, and gives the pup a similar kiss.

 

“She looks like an Angie, I think.” She whispers quietly; there’s more that she seems to want to say, but leaves it at that.

 

His mother leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind her, all the while Raleigh continues staring at the sleeping pup on the blanket he’s curled himself around. Angela. Angie. Maybe Angelo if she turns out to be like him. She makes a small whimpering sound, and he pulls her close to his chest, to the warmth emanating from him, and she yawns widely again, nuzzling close to him.

 

Raleigh can’t do anything but stare at her, take in every part of her, from the tips of her paws to the end of her tail, and he realizes, belatedly, that he’s probably doomed. There’s no way he’s going to be the strict parent, because she already has him wrapped her tiny paws.

  
  
  


 

 

“Congratulations, it’s a puppy.” Herc makes an odd face, before the realization hits him and a wide smile erupts on his feature.

 

“Raleigh doing okay? The sprog’s alright?” The relief on his face is nearly palpable; he’d gotten a message hours before that just said  _PUPPY TIME! :D_ with little else said, so they’d probably been running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

 

“He’s pretty wrecked, but I let him sleep it off for a bit. Still, it would take a crowbar to separate him from her.”

 

“Her? Little girl?” Kiche’s eyes take on a glassy sheen then, and she gushes happily, a hand to her cheek. She’s probably over the damn moon with this, her once beloved home finally situating another pup after nearly 25 damn years.

 

“Oh, Herc, she’s _gorgeous._ Big little girl, too.” She eyes him in a way that he doesn’t strictly like, a wolfish grin on her face, “No idea what colors she’ll end up with, but I have a feeling she’s gonna take more from your side than ours… Where’s Chuck?”

 

“Currently running up here and probably knocking over any poor tech that gets in his way.” A loud yell in the background seems to affirm this, and Kiche doesn’t hide the barking laugh that comes from her mouth when Chuck barrels on screen, looking he’d literally run from off base to get to Herc’s office. Which, technically, he’d been, when his dad had given him the call.

 

“Charlie!”

 

“Don’t call me that.” His expression softens, “Where’s Raleigh?”

 

“I think he’s too tired to move right now; I’ll take this over to him.”

 

There’s a bit of shuffling, the opening of a door, and whispered words that they can’t pick out, before the tablet is placed in front of a very sleepy and exhausted looking Raleigh Becket.

 

“You look like you were hit by a car.” Chuck says with little preamble, though one could hear the worry in his voice, getting an eyeroll from Raleigh. Raleigh _does_ look he’s been through an ordeal, however, his hair longer with bags under his eyes.

 

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d just been through what I’ve been through.” He bites back with no real force behind it. Despite this, Chuck can’t hide the overwhelming _relief_ coursing through him at the sight of him.

 

“Anyway…” and he pulls down part of the bundle in his arms, revealing a small, sleeping puppy.

 

Chuck sucks in a deep breath, as if the wind has suddenly been knocked out of him. It’s like his brain has short-circuited and he doesn’t know what to _say._

 

She’s what Chuck would call _tiny_ with his wolf brain, but as far as people go, she’s just under the size of a regular baby, which… would be considered kind of huge when compared to a dog pup, he realizes. Mentally, he can’t help but wince a little, part of him suddenly feeling very bad for what Raleigh had just gone through. The soft, light colored downy fur that covers her doesn’t give away what her coat will billow out into, and her eyes are closed, but Chuck doesn’t need to know any of those things to know already that she’s fucking perfect.

 

“She have a name yet?” His voice suddenly sounds heavy, and he can’t keep the lump out of his throat as he stares at her. Christ, he wishes he was _there_ right now.

 

Raleigh seems to hesitate, before answering. “...I was thinking of Nancy, but I think she looks more like… an Angela. Angela-Jazmine. Angie.” Next to him, he can hear a sharp intake of breath, as though his dad’s heart rate has just spiked. He doesn’t want to turn and look in case he sees a watery sheen in his father’s eyes, because fuck, he can tell that he’s not too far off from that point either.

 

“S’good name.” His dad lays a hand on his shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze, and he doesn’t have to turn to see the smile on his face. Raleigh’s nervous expression seems to bleed away at that.

 

“You think so?” He rubs a finger across her pink little nose, and she yawns, loudly, her tiny pink tongue poking out. Chuck tries to keep his heart from racing right out of his chest, because he wants to be there and hold her right this second.

 

“You can name the next one Nancy.” Raleigh scowls, but it doesn’t come off with any real animosity behind it. Angie - _Angie, it’s a good name -_ makes a tiny whimpering sound that’s like an arrow straight to his heart, and Raleigh runs a hand gently over her head soothingly.

 

“If you think I am ever doing this ever again, you are very sorely mistaken.”

 

“Your mum did it three times, what’s to say you can’t do the same?”

 

“My mother is also crazy,” From offscreen, they can hear a muffled “ _If you weren’t holding my only grandchild I would throw Max at you.”_ and Raleigh just gives a small grin to her, before turning back to them, his eyes drooping slightly, “One is more than enough for now. Do you have any idea how much trouble wolf children get into?”

 

Again, from offscreen, “ _You will replace so many doors, windows, and walls,”,_ to which Raleigh responds with a yawned “The garage wasn’t my fault.”, only to get “ _Yes, but the carpet and the neighbor’s cat were.”_

 

“Snowball was _fine.”_

 

“ _That poor cat was never the same after that.”_ Chuck shares a look with his father, identical bemused expressions on their faces; that’s a story he needs to hear at a later date.

  
  
  


When the call blips out on Raleigh’s sleepy face, gazing lovingly at their daughter (their _daughter,_ jesus christ he’s a _dad_ now), Herc turns to him and the proud look in his eyes is almost too much to bear.

 

“She looks like she’s gonna be quite the handful when she gets bigger, yeah?”

 

“Yeah…” He dad rounds on him, a soft look in his eyes.

 

“Chuck. I know that we’ve always gone this way without… saying much, but I think you’re gonna do a damn fine job with her.”

 

“Dad, I-”

 

“No, let me finish. You and Raleigh might be able to get away with not saying words, but we… we don’t have the drift anymore.” His breath hitches in his throat then.

 

“Dad, we haven’t needed to.” And Chuck ducks his head down then, suddenly abashed, and Herc realizes with sudden clarity, _no, we haven’t needed it, have we?_ This isn’t a _I know, you don’t need to say it,_ it’s _We don’t have to avoid each other anymore._

 

_We're okay now._

 

“You’ll do fine. Wait till you get to hold her in your arms, you’ll see. You’ve grown so much these past few years...”

 

“What, you don’t think I was a respectable young man before this?”

 

“I think Raleigh had a large part in that.” There’s an easy smile on Chuck’s face, probably the least forced Herc has seen in a long while, and he just nods his head in assent then.

 

“Well, come on then, time to spread the news.”

  
  
  


Raleigh keeps Angie swaddled up in a blanket that belongs to Chuck, or a T-shirt he’d left behind, or anything that smells like him at all. He wants to make sure she knows her father’s scent, and not just his own, which he’s all but given up at being classified as “mother”. It helps, he thinks, that she barely moves, just sleeps all day. His mother is an encyclopedia of info that he’s thanking his lucky stars for, mostly because it’s not like there’s a _book_ on these sorts of things yet.

 

“It’s normal. You think you did anything but sleep like the dead when you born?”

 

Max and the girls had been a surprisingly soothing presence as well.

 

Chuck had been loathe to leave his dog, because Max had always been his constant companion, but this time, he’d left him behind “To keep you company”. Raleigh introduces Max to the sleeping pup, and the dog sniffs her, nudges her gently, and then licks a long strip down her face that results in loud whimpering. His mother’s dogs sit patiently at the side of the bed that he sits at, each of them wanting to get a good look at the new pup. He decides to quell their curiosity at three days, and they each take turns sniffing her before giving her face a lick, much to her consternation.

 

There are some days, amusingly, where he wakes up at the bottom of a literal dog pile, Max and the girls forming a circle around him and Angie. His mom, he’s fairly certain, has a small stockpile of photos of it now.

 

However, he finds that Max never leaves Angie’s side, not when he’s holding her, not when she’s asleep in her cradle, and part of Raleigh can’t help but find that adorable. When she whimpers, Max somehow scrambles onto the bed and lays next to her, keeping her company, and if his meals from now on become more extravagant, well, Raleigh doesn’t have any hand in it.

 

He just hopes that Angela never thinks _Max_ is her dad, because, oh, that would be beyond embarrassing.

  
  


“When you were born, Yancy stuck by your side until you opened your eyes.”

 

He’s been staring at Angie’s face for a good ten minutes, trying to memorize all the parts of her that will inevitably change with age. The tiny nubs on her head are growing into larger triangles, and she can already move around at a snail’s pace, if somewhat hampered by the lack of sight or hearing. And the inability to actually stand on four legs.

 

“He was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.” He’s not sure where she’s going with this, maybe feeling nostalgic while looking at Angie, and his mother leans over and scratches behind one tiny ear.

 

“Not you?”

 

“It was always Yancy first with you. You followed him everywhere as a pup, and it wasn’t until he got frustrated one day and _demanded_ you shift that you even did. If he hadn’t asked, I imagine you could have spent even more of your youth as a puppy.” Well, that was somewhat embarrassing, he supposed.

 

Maybe it explained more about the two of them than he’d originally thought, though. Yancy had been his other half, the one Raleigh had always thought he’d follow to the end. It feels odd, sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly maudlin and standing in their old bedroom, that he’s here, and Yancy isn’t, that Jaz isn’t.

 

But he’s here now, and his daughter is here too.

 

“Do you think she’ll be like me?”

 

“Maybe, maybe not. She seems like she’s gonna more of a daddy’s girl.”

 

“I’m her daddy.” He affirms.

 

“No, you’re mommy.” She corrects, and he makes a face at this. Angie gnaws on his fingers and whines to be fed.

 

“It doesn’t feel right that he’s not here. He shouldn’t be missing this.” Part of him, he thinks, is angry with the PPDC for not even letting him have _this_ , because Chuck _should_ be here, _should_ be seeing his daughter, especially in these early months.

 

“You’re right.” His mother agrees, mutedly, and if Raleigh finds a pair of plane tickets on the kitchen table the next day, he doesn’t say anything.

  


 

Mako shows up out of the blue one day, a veritable cavalcade of toys, clothes, and other baby items with her.

 

“Everyone sends their regards.”

 

“Along with a whole baby shower worth of gifts.” He muses, leafing through a dozen _Congrats!_ cards. The one Newt had sent had the _It’s a_ _Girl_ crossed out with _Whatever you want to be!,_ and he couldn’t stop the small smile from forming on his face at that.

 

“They are all very excited to meet her. This is only just what I could bring with me; Chuck’s room is filled with even more gifts.”

 

Raleigh can tell that she’s trying her to best to quell the squeal that’s building in her throat when he hands her Angie, her fingers reverently petting the top of the pup’s head. Angie whines for a moment, before settling down and nuzzling into her chest, still wrapped up in Chuck’s blanket.

 

“She looks like Chuck.”

 

“How can you even tell? Her fur is _barely_ turning reddish brown.” He’s fucking lying and he’s knows it; she’s barely a week old and she already has the beginnings of Chuck’s coat, and that puts a pin right in his heart, the warmth pooling through him when he looks at her and thinks, _Look at you, you look just like your daddy._

 

Mako doesn’t say anything at that, a sly smile on her face.

 

“You’re looking better than Chuck had claimed. He was very worried; I imagine he’ll continue on like that until he sees you.” His expression scrunches up at that.

 

“Have you looked at her? She’s like the size of an _actual baby_.” And he’d looked it up, too, and had cringed at the photos like any other guy would, but truly, Angie was on the larger side. It’s weird enough looking at her and thinking _this came from me, I made this_ (with some help from Chuck, of course).

 

Yeah, he’s never fucking doing that ever again.

 

“Yes, according to your mother, she is rather large. But still very cute, despite looking like her father.” Raleigh’s expressions softens then.

 

“Is he doing okay? I mean, he saw her over vid-chat but it’s not the same.”

 

“He’s been an unrighteous terror these past two months.” He cringes at the thought.

 

“Nothing too terrible, I hope?” It’s a fleeting hope, he knows, and Mako’s flat look only crushes it further.

 

“He’s made six techs cry in that time and one threatened to quit. He’s also becoming quite the monster among the politicians.” _That_ was highly unsurprising, though Raleigh was beginning to wonder just who thought it was a bright idea to make one of the least patient and well composed people he’d ever known an _ambassador_ of anything _._ “He’s never been on his best behavior when you’re not around.”

 

“I think, however,” Mako starts, scratching behind Angie’s right ear and receiving a pleased sound for that, “That once he sees you two, he will calm down. He’s been very anxious these past few months.” Understandably so; Chuck hated actually being the PPDC’s lapdog, and he hated being away from Raleigh (who had become synonymous with _home,_ and no, that definitely didn’t fill him with warm fuzzy feelings), so having both of those things happening at the same time while _also_ being away from his newborn infant daughter were probably hell on everyone within a 5 mile radius of him.

 

Angie whines again suddenly, snuffling into the blanket Raleigh had covered her in; it had worked how he’d hoped, Angela becoming familiar enough with Chuck’s scent to take comfort in it.

 

“Soon, little one, you’ll see your daddy soon.” Mako soothes, rubbing her back.

  
  
  
  
  


“You think she’ll be okay with the flight?”

 

“I think she is a strong little girl, like her mother.” Crap, now Mako was in on it too.

 

“Stop calling me that.”

 

“Even if I do, you can imagine that Chuck will not let this go quietly.” The worst part was that she was probably _right._

 

He’d looked online if it was okay to travel with a newborn, but the articles had mostly been garnered towards newborn _humans,_ though the general consensus was that Were children were pretty hardy and could do with a day’s worth of travel. Still, it didn’t dispel the paranoia bubbling within him.

 

He’d wondered, idly, if he could have seen to getting a private flight to Sydney, but Mako had supplied the tickets per request of his mother, and he had no idea what kind of flight that would entail.

 

Still, they bundle her up in a baby sling (meant for more _human_ shaped newborns, but it does the trick and keeps her secure all the same), pack up enough luggage to last for a good while, and head off to the airport.

 

“Take care. Make sure she doesn’t overheat. She’ll adjust fine if you introduce her to the climate _slowly,_ make sure they bring you in an air conditioned room.” She was probably going to call Herc and threaten him with bodily harm to make sure that happened, but she was right; the temperature was wildly different, but as Angie hadn’t developed her winter coat yet, the downy baby fur too soft for that, they’d kept her wrapped up in blankets. Once they got to Sydney, however, they’d be able to reduce the layers.

 

“Will do.” He gets a kiss on his cheek for that, having to bend down to let his mother reach, and she bumps noses with Angie after that. Mako gets a firm hug and kiss on the cheek as well.

  
  
  
  
  


“Oh my god is that her? _Oh my god she’s so cute.”_ Newt makes grabby hands towards the sling, and Raleigh slides down part of the blanket he has Angie wrapped up in, revealing her curious, sniffing face to them. He hears some techs and other K-science members murmuring _oh, goodness, she’s adorable, how did that happen?_ and _That little pup came from our Charlie?_ from a ways off, and he can’t hide the heat rising in his cheeks at that.

 

“Can I… I guess _touch_ would sound kind of weird, can I pet her?” He nods, motioning for Newt to come forward; the other man surprisingly doesn’t smell of Kaiju guts (not _completely_ , but then, he wouldn’t be _Newt_ without it), and Angie makes a small yipping sound when Newt’s equally tiny hands gently pet the top of her head.

 

“Oh, man, she looks  _just like_ Chuck, that’s too perfect for words. He seen her yet?”

 

“Do you think I’d be here without him if he had?” Raleigh gives him a flat look.

 

“Good point.”

  
  


When they unveil Angela to Herc, there’s a glassy sheen in the older man’s eyes that he ducks his head to hide what have to be tears brimming.

 

“She’s, ah, she’s a little beauty, isn’t she?” Raleigh hands her off, gently, taking note of the reverent way Herc holds her, letting her sniff him before yawning and settling down into his arms.

 

“She looks like she’s gonna be a little copy of Chuck.” Mako supplies, tilting her head a little as Herc hods.

 

“You’re gonna be in a world of trouble once she gets to wandering around; this little one’s gonna be quite the handful.”

 

“And to think Chuck wants more.” Raleigh rolls his eyes.

 

“He hasn’t even held her yet and he wants _more?_ Over my dead body.” There’s some commotion from far off that Raleigh can hear getting closer, and instinctively he already knows what it is.

 

“Well, either way he seems to be blustering his way back here.” He notes, once Herc hands Angela back to him. The older man seems hesitant to, but Raleigh mentally promises to give him more time with his granddaughter later.

 

 

Chuck catches wind of a scent that he’s missed for over two months when he gets back to the Dome, and it winds around him comfortingly, beckoning him down zigzagging hallways to where the main offices are. There’s another scent as well, that can only be described as _new_ , layered under his own (and isn’t that interesting); his mind instantly categorizes both scents, familiar and new, as _mate_ and _pup_ , and the two mix to form  _family._

 

To say that he guns it to LOCCENT would be an understatement.

 

He’s pretty certain he nearly bowls some poor tech over with how fast he’s going, rushing through hallways and past various people who seem to already know where he’s headed. There are a few of Striker’s old techs and engineers who call after him, “ _Proud of you, you little brat!”_ and “ _She’s a real beauty, Charlie!”._

 

It only makes him run faster.

 

He rounds a corner, right to where the Marshall’s office lies, and there’s his mate, with Mako and his dad _._

 

Raleigh’s wearing a ridiculous baby sling that somehow works to make him even more endearing and adorable, and adding to that is the actual pup housed there. Pup, child, daughter. There’s a softness in Raleigh’s eye, and the curve of his face doesn’t seem so sharp anymore; when he sees Chuck his eyes light up and he’s struck by much he’s _missed_ him.

 

“Hey.” He throws out shakily, slowing to a stop before the other man. The bundle that Raleigh has swaddled up in his sling starts to whimper, and Raleigh pulls aside the blanket covering, and, _oh._

 

There she is.

 

“She’s been fussy ever since she got wind of you.” Raleigh supplies, tickling her little nose; around them, he can hear his dad and Mako say something, before trailing off and leaving, leaving them in their own little universe.

 

“Not liking the way her old man smells?” He tries to say it in good humor, but suddenly feels _worried._ What if she doesn’t like him?

 

“No, no, she’s been looking for you. Ever since we got here, she’s been trying to find you. Come on, she wants you.” Raleigh motions him closer, and there’s some strange logistics to the transferring of a baby from one person to another, but they manage it. Chuck feels her weight in his arms, her tiny whimpers turning to pleased yips when she noses at his chest, sniffing him and apparently finding him to be satisfactory.

 

“She knows who I am?”

 

“Of course she knows who her daddy is.” He can’t even find a way to try and explain how that makes him feel, that his heart might just explode from warmth and good feelings, _she knows who I am_ ringing through his skull as he reverently strokes the top of her head with his fingers. She’s not even three weeks old and she already knows him without ever seeing him or feeling him until this moment.

 

“It takes us longer to open our eyes than real wolves; I wanted to make sure you were there when she opened them. She can hear now though, get her used to the sound of your voice.“ He looks up then, Angie cuddled between them; one of Raleigh’s hands lays gently on her back, the other finding it’s way to the back of Chuck’s neck.

 

“She’s here.” Raleigh says, leaning close and bumping his forehead to Chuck’s.

 

“Yeah.” He says, his voice suddenly thick as he nods, shakily, “Yeah, she is. And you are, too.”

 

“We’re here, with you.” Raleigh’s lips ghost across his own, and Chuck wants to just bundle him up and hide away with him and Angie in his room for days, to just re-familiarize himself with Raleigh’s scent, to commit Angie’s to memory.

 

“That means I’m home, then.” Chuck can feel the soft laughter reverberating from Raleigh then, Angie squawking between them at the sudden movement.

 

“Yeah, you’re home now.”

 

_Because home is wherever you are._

  
  


Chuck never leaves Angie’s side. Raleigh figures this should be obvious, but it really is true.

 

Angela can sort of tromp around on wobbly legs now, tripping every so often on unsteady paws. Chuck is there, behind her, every step of the way, either on two feet or four paws himself. It becomes something of an adorable sight, one giant red wolf following after a tiny pup who totters forward, wanting to explore the rest of the dome. It’s been a while, Striker’s old head engineer tells Raleigh one day while watching Angie fall asleep against Chuck’s front paws, that they’d had a little one wandering around, even now after the breach had been closed.

 

Many of the J-techs, people who’d worked on Striker and Lucky Seven before that, chortle at the sight, especially those who knew Chuck since he’d been a small thing himself. Chuck just snorts at them when they toss out comments like _Poor thing looks just like her old man!,_ because he’s sure those aren’t going to end for a very long time.

 

Her eyes, a frosty blue that echo Raleigh’s own and his mother’s, are open and curious and it takes her approximately 20 minutes to get herself right into a mess of trouble in the kitchens, something which her parents are resigned to think is going to be a repeating event.

 

Still, there’s always a bit of amusement to be had when she comes tumbling around, not yet steady on her feet to not trip and fall every so often. She’s young enough where she tires out quickly as well, and when that happens Chuck scoops her up and carries her back to their room.

 

“You can just pick her up by the scruff, you know.” Raleigh starts when he notices Chuck having issues trying to carry their daughter as a wolf.

 

“I… but it looks painful.”

 

“It’s… not. At least not now. I mean, don’t pick her up like that when you’re human, but when you’re a wolf it’s fine. I guess I wouldn’t carry for her too long like that...”

 

“See, even you’re doubting it now.” Chuck points out, Angela poking out of the front of his jacket; she’d burrowed herself in there when Raleigh had brought her down after feeding her, and was refusing to come out, whining loudly if Chuck moved too much.

 

“Hey now, my mom carried me like that and I turned out _fine.”_ Chuck gives him a flat, unimpressed look, before looking down curiously; Angie had begun snuffling and they’d fear she’d had a small cold (how she’d gotten one, considering they were in goddamn _Australia_ , was beyond either of them.

 

“Hey now, settle down there.” He ran a comforting hand down her back, and there’s a moment where her spine goes rigid, before a tiny sneeze escapes her. Their reactions are nearly immediate.

 

_“Oh christ!”_

 

“Oh, um… I was not expecting that to happen for… a while…” Raleigh mutters, staring with eyes wide at the now human baby held in Chuck’s arms, wriggling and crying loudly.

 

“Well,” Raleigh muses, recovering quickly as he takes in Angela’s new scent, “at least we know that I picked the right name.” The glare Chuck shoots him as he tries to make sure he holds her properly is nearly glacial.

  


 

His mother laughs and laughs, _and then laughs some more_ when they call her, only slightly panicked.

 

“I guess,” She starts, wiping a stray tear from her eye, “That she’s more like Yancy was, then.” The humor fades away into a nostalgic fond look that has Chuck looking away, Angela the _human_ baby now properly swaddled up in one of the many, _many_ onesies they’d gotten as gifts; he was also thanking his lucky stars that they’d had the foresight to put diapers and baby formula among those things as well.

 

Mako’s face when Raleigh goes to her, a naked human baby in his arms, asking where all the leftover gifts were stored is one he’ll remember for a long while.

 

“So this is normal.” He states, flatly, Angela held to his chest and seemingly entranced by the collar of his jacket. Mako had put a cute little sun hat on her head as well, and Chuck was doing his damndest to not coo over it, because he _did not_ coo.

 

“As normal as werewolves could be, I suppose.” She answers, unhelpfully, before a wide grin crosses her face.

 

“You should take her to go see grandpa, I’m sure he’d be very excited to see her.”

 

“What are you talking about, he’s already-” And then Chuck realizes that as much as his dad obviously loves his daughter, they’d still handed him a _puppy_ at the time.

  


 

Herc’s face when Chuck brings a now human Angela to him is _priceless._

 

“What, it’s like you didn’t _know_ you suddenly had a grandchild.” Chuck grouses, with no real heat behind it. His dad throws him a _look._

 

“Don’t be a smart arse.” He motions for Chuck to hand her over, and bounces her on his knee slightly, enough to get a tiny giggle out of her. She then proceeds to reach forward and try to grab whatever she can, making an adorable sound when her tiny little hands feel the stubble on Herc’s face.

 

“She’s gonna be a little troublemaker.” He muses with a fond smile on his lips, letting his calloused fingers gently run over her soft, downy hair as she drools all over his jacket. Angela the human baby has Chuck’s hair, with Raleigh’s eye, though Chuck has no idea how to pick out features on an _infant_. Damn ginger genes, Chuck thinks in amusement.

 

Still, she babbles happily at Herc, something the both of them are beyond thankful for; it had taken an hour to calm her down after she’d initially shifted, her loud sobbing cries echoing down the halls and ripping their hearts to little pieces.

 

“You’re gonna be heading back soon?” He tosses out, casually.

 

“Yeah… At least for a little bit. You know, Raleigh wants to spend Christmas with his mum, Mako’s heading back with us, and…” Chuck trails off, awkwardly, before speaking again, the question he’d been thinking of leaving him.

 

“You should come. Stay a bit; it’s not like we don’t have the space.” Herc looks surprised, more at the invitation than anything else, blinking once before chuckling a bit.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll come.”

  
  


 

Christmas is loud and bustling, with somehow way more people than Chuck initially thought would show up. There’s Newt, and then Hermann and his wife show up with their toddler in tow (and she’d gotten so big, Chuck was amazed, because he hadn’t seen her since she was _tiny_ and he realizes with a jolt he’s going to go through the same thing with his own daughter), and then Tendo and Mako come together.

 

They’re all loud and annoying, and the scientists get into some cerebral argument Chuck wants no part of, but he finds himself impossibly content at the same time.

 

He catches Raleigh by the waist when they’re in the kitchen, cleaning dishes, and press his lips to the back of the other man’s neck, taking glee in the soft shudder that runs down the other man’s spine when he does so.

 

“Where’s the sprog?” He asks, somewhat distractedly, though he knows full well where she is.

 

“Out back on the porch with your dad and my mom.” Raleigh laughs, turning his head to return the kiss heartfully.

 

His curiosity is piqued, however, and the two of them wander to the back porch where Herc is seated on an old wicker couch, Angela asleep in his lap. The really surprising thing is the black wolf that is also lying against him on the long couch, and Chuck wrinkles his nose at the thought, _oh, god, please don’t let our parents be shagging._

 

“Having fun out here, old man?” Chuck teases.

 

“I’m doing alright; freezing my arse off but it’s otherwise pleasant.” Herc tosses back amiably, and Kiche huffs in amusement at that, nudging Angela slightly with her wet nose and getting a yip in response. When she catches whiff of the two of them, however, she makes to try and wobble over to them, and Raleigh expertly snatches her up in his arms, hugging her close.

 

“Try not to get up to anything too terrible out there.” He’s teasing, but it’s more of a coping mechanism at the horrified thought of their parents doing anything together. Herc scowls at him, before sighing loudly, a twinkle in his eyes as he looks back at the two of them.

 

“This was nice,” he starts, giving the black wolf a scratch behind her ears that neither of them resolutely try not to read into. They'd long ago buried that particular hatchet, but Chuck hasn't seen them interact since then, not like this.

 

“Proud of you two.” Kiche nods her head in assent, as if agreeing with him. 

 

“Dad, it was just dinner-” 

 

“Not just today. Of all of this, of all you’ve done. Making a home here for yourselves.” And he gives Angela a meaningful look, affection apparent in his eyes.

 

Oh, Chuck thinks, his heart suddenly heavy.

 

“You’ve both done good.” And it’s probably the most feeling he’s ever gotten from his old man, because he can smell it, the contentment, the pride, and it hurts, it’s so genuine.

 

“Thanks, dad.” He means it, more than he has in years, and that’s amazing, he thinks.

 

Raleigh leans over and murmurs soft words into his ear then, and he can see one of Kiche’s ears cock at that, but she makes no other move aside from another huff of amusement. She and Herc seem to share a look of exasperated fondness, and Chuck wonders, imperceptibly, what really went on between them.

 

The two of them steal back away inside, before Chuck stops them in the hallway, alone aside from Angie’s calm breathing.

 

Raleigh’s gentle words wash over him again, and he suddenly leans over to give the other man a soft, affectionate kiss on the lips, overwhelmingly content and _happy_. He thinks about what it took to get to this moment in his life, when so many others things could have ended it, when he could have completely lost everything. He thinks about days in the snows, hot days in Sydney, Angela's happy giggles, the way that Raleigh looks when he wakes up in the morning. He thinks about the path that has brought him here, that had taken him away from a house in Sydney that he'd once called home, only to bring him here.

 

He’s home now. They all are.

 

_You are where my home is, where it will always be, and I love you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S OVER, OH MY GOSH.
> 
> I just wanted to let all of you who've stuck with this (for some reason lmfao) THANK YOU, you're all beautiful and amazing and inspired me to keep writing. It's somewhat bittersweet getting to the end of this, being both the longest and first fanfic I've ever finished _ever_. I hope it was to your liking ;v; I know this was a cheesy as hell ride, but I'm eternally thankful to those of you who stuck with me through it all. If you would ever like to chat, feel free to hit me up on my tumblr [here](http://happyasaghost.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Now to finish the other two! (goodness, oh no)


End file.
